Fathoming the Mind of a Werewolf
by Antoniaeast
Summary: James Potter, Sirius Black, Peter Pettigrew and Remus Lupin start their first year at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry, bringing with them their ambitions, histories, fears and deepest, darkest secrets. This is their story.
1. Friend or Foe?

1: Friend or Foe? 

James's stomach gave a lurch as he ran through the barrier to platform nine and three-quarters for the very first time. There it was, the famous Hogwarts Express, the same red steam engine that had taken members of the Potter family to school for over a century. The platform was a riot of excited, though at times rather tearful, students and their parents; the air rang with the sound of raised voices, mewling cats, croaking toads and hooting owls. Above that could be heard the wails of demonstrative mothers, lamenting the imminent departure of their little darlings; James felt very sorry for the small mousy-haired boy whose mother was sobbing dramatically on his shoulder. He was glad that his mother would not resort to such hysterics.

He turned to the barrier; his mother and father were walking towards him through the crowd, his father pushing the cart with James's trunk and owl before him. James looked at the large clock that hung above the platform. It was ten to eleven. In ten minutes the train would be leaving for Hogwarts, with him on board. For as long as he could remember, James had been awaiting this moment. His name had been on the list from the day he was born (no Potter had ever been a Squib), and the anticipation had reached fever pitch when he'd finally received his letter. In fact, he'd destroyed a lot of the spacious kitchen in his euphoria. Luckily, Ketterleigh Castle (in Muggle terms, a rather run down yet architecturally interesting National Trust building visited by bus loads of pensioners; in Wizarding terms, the ancestral seat of one of the oldest, richest and most prestigious wizarding families), had been constructed with much more than bricks and mortar, and he had not inflicted any lasting damage.

During the subsequent trip to Diagon Alley to collect his school things, James's mother had threatened to Floo him straight back home if he didn't calm down, so excited was he at the prospect of his new robes, potion ingredients, books, owl and, best of all, his wand. He felt for it in his pocket now, just to check that he had it. Mahogany, 11 inches, pliable. Mr Ollivander had said it was good for Transfiguration. James hoped so.

He hadn't really thought about his lessons, other than the amazing tricks he'd be able to learn. He didn't know whether he'd be good or not. He'd better be good, he thought resolutely. He wanted to be a talented wizard, as both his parents were. As his father returned from hoisting his luggage onto the train, panic briefly welled up in James' chest. What if he was hopeless? What if he didn't make any friends? What if (horror of horrors) he wasn't sorted into Gryffindor, where his parents and a long line of Potters had been? Then, James's natural confidence reasserted itself. He was James Potter; he was not going to be hopeless. For the same reason, there would be plenty of people wanting to be friends with him, and just let them try to put him anywhere but Gryffindor.

Five minutes to eleven. The witch nearby was crying even more violently on her dazed, and now rather damp, son. James's mother pulled him into a hug, which he wriggled out of after an acceptable amount of time had passed. He was proud of her for not crying, though.

"Goodbye, dear," she said. "You'll have a wonderful time; everybody does at Hogwarts."

"Do try to do a bit of work, though," added his father, a twinkle in his eye. James had loved hearing tales of his father's trouble-making days at school. He, however, was going to do even better.

"And remember to be nice to your cousin, and to wear clean socks, and comb you hair," his mother's lip was trembling. James recognised the danger and hoped she wasn't about to cry.

James tried not to look too eager as his father clapped him on the shoulder, and he accepted his mother's kiss with good grace. He headed towards the train. Once more the rush of panic rose in his chest, and he turned back to his parents; for once in his life he felt hesitant and unsure. They were watching him, his father's arm round his mother's waist.

James Potter squared his shoulders, and boarded the train.

When he got to the free compartment where his father had stowed his trunk, James wasn't entirely sure what to do. He gazed out of the window, and waved enthusiastically at his parents, who were standing with the Walkers, and who had noticed him. His mother's eyes were red now. They beamed and waved back. James then thought it might be considered unmanly to be waving from the train, and shrank back out of view. He reached up to the luggage rack, and pulled from his trunk a bag which he had packed himself. The house-elf had done the rest. He was jolted back down into his seat, as the train suddenly started moving. Turning his head, he caught a last glimpse of his parents as the Hogwarts Express whooshed away from the platform. He was off.

Just then, the door opened. A tall, dark-haired girl stalked in, followed by an equally tall, blonde boy, who had held the door open for her. They looked very grown up. Both were already dressed in school robes, and both, James noticed, wore the green and silver colours of Slytherin House. Both also had silver badges with a P on them fastened over their chests.

"You're a first-year." It was not a question. The girl's voice was clear and authoritative. Both the boy and girl were eyeing him, taking in his good-quality clothes, the bulging moneybag at his belt, the monogrammed trunk on the rack, and the glinting cage which housed his large, sleek owl, Archimedes. James decided that if they were wearing Slytherin robes then he didn't like them.

"Brilliant, we're first-years, too. I'm Sirius, and this is my cousin Narcissa." The rushed and enthusiastic voice startled James. For the first time, he noticed the two younger children standing behind the Slytherin prefects. Both were tall for their age. The boy was dark-haired, the girl blonde, but they had the same grey eyes that gave the curious impression of being both light and dark. Like the older students, they had a natural air of elegance and insolence, although the boy who had introduced himself as Sirius had marred the effect by bouncing on the balls of his feet.

"Shut up!" snapped the girl who had spoken before,

"What's your name?" asked the tall boy, speaking for the first time. His voice was drawling and languid.

"James Potter," James answered, a hint of aggression in his tone. He was not sure why he felt the need to defend himself, but he did. His name obviously meant something to the four people before him, yet their reaction wasn't the usual one he got from members of the wizarding community. The elder girl looked disappointed and disapproving. The elder boy had drawn his face into a contemptuous sneer, as though he could smell something disgusting in the compartment. The younger girl drew herself up, and eyed him coldly, her expression one of disdain. However, the bouncing boy's face contained a mixture of excitement and defiance.

"Another of the prestigious Potter line," the sneering boy commented in his mocking voice. James bristled. The older children exchanged a glance.

"A pity," murmured the girl, still eyeing James almost hungrily. As one, the Slytherins made to leave the compartment. The girl turned to follow. The younger boy did not move.

"Come, Sirius." commanded the girl. Sirius was glowering, his chin stuck out.

"I think I'll stay here, thanks, Bella," he said in a decided tone. His expression was mutinous. Bella's eyes seemed to flash. For a second, James thought she was attempting wandless magic. But then, she spoke in a collected voice that was as firm as Sirius's had been.

"You are coming with us."

"No, I'm not!"

"He can stay here if he likes!" James jumped up, and glared at the girl.

"Keep out of matters that do not concern you, Potter," the sneering boy said in a smooth voice. "Sirius, you should know that it is only acceptable to mix with certain families." James felt the contempt radiating from him. "Your cousin and I are merely acting for your own good by keeping you away from the wrong sort."

"Why can't I decide for myself which are the wrong sort?" Sirius demanded. "Andromeda does."

"You would associate with a Potter, and tarnish the reputation of the House of Black?" screamed Bella, her eyes wide with rage. The mention of Andromeda, whoever she was, seemed to have unhinged her.

James understood. They were Blacks, a pureblood family as old and rich as the Potters. His father had told him about them. They were obsessed with blood, he'd explained, believing that magical blood should be kept pure by not marrying Muggles or Muggle-borns. They were always members of Slytherin House, just as the Potters were normally sorted into Gryffindor, and the rivalry was extended out of school. It was no longer a mystery why they had reacted to his name like that. There was a look of shame and hatred on the younger boy's face. James found the fact that he was so ashamed to have tried to be friends with a Potter rather insulting. But then again, the boy was a Black.

The younger boy opened his mouth to say something, but before any words came out, a wand was pointing at his chest.

"Come along, Sirius," the blonde boy said with a smirk on his face, using his wand to push Sirius towards the door. Bella stalked out of the compartment, closely followed by Narcissa, who copied the elder girl's way of walking. The boys followed, Sirius still showing signs of unwillingness.

"D'you mind if we sit here?" The compartment door had not been long shut before it was opened again, and two boys entered. James eyed them with interest.

"Go ahead," he said, glad to have some company. "I'm James Potter." Maybe it was better to warn them.

"A Potter!" one of them squeaked in awe. James recognised the chubby boy from the platform; he still had the damp traces of tears on the shoulder of his jumper. The other boy was taller and thinner. He looked rather sickly, but had only reacted with mild interest when James had introduced himself. Perhaps he was Muggle-born.

"I'm Remus Lupin," said the boy, sitting down on a seat opposite James. "And this is Peter Pettigrew." The plump boy still seemed rather awestruck, but smiled shyly at James. He, too, sat down, and James was just about to ask whether either of them supported Quidditch when the door burst open.

"Ha! I escaped!" The boy from before was breathless, but triumphant. "Sorry about that," he said, turning to James. "Bellatrix and Malfoy" (his eyes narrowed) "are seriously evil." James grinned at him. He might be a Black, but he didn't seem to like the others very much, and he looked like fun.

"Shall we start again?" he asked, standing up and holding out his hand in mock formality. "James Potter, pleased to meet you."

"Sirius Black," said the other boy, seizing James' hand and shaking it violently. "Very pleased to be away from that lot."

As if to prove it, he flung himself into the seat beside James. Remus and Peter introduced themselves, and Sirius insisted on shaking their hands too.

"So..." Sirius said, after Peter had been released and had sunk back down into his seat, massaging his right hand. "Do any of you like Quidditch?"

James and Sirius' discussion of the Falmouth Falcon's Beaters ended only by the arrival of the witch who sold sweets up and down the train.

"Anything off the trolley, dears?" she asked, beaming at them.

James and Sirius leapt up eagerly, each producing bulging moneybags. Remus' pale cheeks turned slightly pinker as he muttered something about having eaten a large breakfast, while Peter looked sadly from his handful of Knuts to the large range of sweets available. Once James and Sirius had made their selections, however, the trolley appeared considerably emptier. James saw Peter staring at his mountainous pile of sweets.

"Help yourself," he said, through a mouthful of pumpkin pasty. Next to him, Sirius nodded, his mouth too stuffed with the three cauldron cakes he'd managed to fit in at once to say anything intelligible. Peter cautiously reached for a chocolate frog, and after a few nibbles gathered momentum, eating more and more. A minute later, the effects of Remus' large breakfast seemed to wear off, and soon a contented silence descended on the carriage.

A dark head poked cautiously through the door.

"Sirius?"

James took in the greasy, long hair, sallow skin, hooked nose and bad-tempered expression with increasing dislike.

"Sirius?"

Sirius made a mammoth effort, and swallowed.

"Get lost, Snape." he said, thickly.

The head didn't move.

"He told you to get lost," James said, annoyed.

"Sirius, Bella says you've got to come back, or she'll report you to your mother."

Sirius ignored the boy, who looked to be a first-year, too, and continued to eat, mechanically, stuffing food into his mouth so that he could not answer.

"She'll send Lucius in to hex you again." The face sneered in imitation of the blonde Slytherin boy. Sirius unwrapped a chocolate frog. Peter looked rather afraid, while Remus was watching the greasy-haired boy with disdain.

"Or we could hex you. Now," James replied, deciding he really did not like this boy. The boy laughed maliciously.

"I'd like to see you try, Potter!"

Sirius's mouth had stopped chewing. James turned to the others.

"Which one shall I try?" he asked. He was standing up now, and had pulled his wand from his pocket. Behind his back he reached into the bag he had taken from his trunk earlier.

"I don't know." Remus pretended to be thinking hard. "There are several quite nasty ones."

"You don't know any hexes," the boy jeered. James thought he looked rather worried, though.

"Oh, don't I?" He swished his wand in the boy's direction, at the same time hurling an exploding firecracker at him, so that it blew up in the boy's startled face.

"He's hexed me, Potter's hexed me!" wailed the boy, and they heard him running off down the train.

Sirius's hand had dropped to his side, holding a half eaten pumpkin pasty.

"Good riddance." piped up Peter.

"Who was he, anyway?" asked Remus.

"Severus Snape," Sirius answered. "He's one of the right sort, according to my family." His voice was heavy with contempt.

"Looked a right wimp to me," James said. "He was crying like a baby."

Suddenly, a blissful expression crossed Sirius's face. "Snivellus," he breathed.

As the four of them got off the boats which had carried them across the lake, James began to feel nervous. The view of the castle had been breathtaking. He couldn't believe that he was here at last. The rest of the journey had passed without further incident. On descending from the train, he, Remus and Sirius had been delighted, and Peter rather unnerved, to be met by a huge giant of a man, who'd grinned at them cheerily. He had made three friends, and he thought, smirking at Snape, had found someone to be the target of his pranks. Sirius, it seemed, also planned to wreak havoc at Hogwarts, and James was sure that they could cause some serious mischief together. But first, the sorting was coming up, and he had to be put in Gryffindor.

"If I get put into Slytherin, I'm going home," he whispered to Sirius.

"Almost my entire family's in Slytherin," Sirius muttered. Around them, many of the first years look terrified, Peter included. James nodded to his distant cousin Alice, a round-faced blonde, who was biting her lip so hard that she'd drawn blood, while the girl next to her chewed at her pigtail. Another group of boys were talking in half-horrified, half-enthralled whispers of the gruelling tests that they would have to undergo, and a tall boy was pacing, as though unable to stand still. The stern-faced professor who had met them arranged them into alphabetical order, and, quaking, the line processed into the Great Hall.

There were gasps along the line as the new students entered the room. There were four house tables, and one staff table, all crammed with students and teachers. The ceiling was a stormy grey.

"It's enchanted to look like the sky outside," a girl further up the line informed them in a hushed voice.

James craned his neck to see who had spoken: the girl who had been chewing her flaming-red pigtails. The line advanced. A teacher appeared with a hat on a stool. James's parents had explained to him about the Sorting Hat, and he was rather disappointed by its bedraggled appearance. Suddenly a rip in the brim began to move.

"Over one thousand years ago, when my cloth was new..."

His parents hadn't told him that the hat sang. James listened, enthralled, and for a few seconds forgot about the imminent Sorting.

"Then Gryffindor enchanted me so I could help them see

In which of all four houses, a pupil ought to be.

For those who delight in labour were dearest to Hufflepuff,

Whereas for gallant Gryffindor, great courage was enough.

Ravenclaw liked intelligence, and those who loved to test,

But in the eyes of Slytherin, the ambitious were the best..."

The mention of Gryffindor made James feel huge pride in his family, who had proven themselves of "great courage," but also made him even more fearful that he would fall short of his family tradition. He decided that the Sorting Hat's song was incredibly stupid, and concentrated on looking suitably nonchalant.

"Alden, Rebecca" was the first name to be called. She shuffled up to the hat and pulled it over her head, where it fell down over her nose. There was a pause.

"Hufflepuff," the Hat announced, and the room exploded into applause, as Rebecca scuttled off to join her new house.

"Bassett, Terence" became a Ravenclaw, before "Black, Narcissa" was announced. The blonde girl who James had last seen marching off after Bella approached the stool. He glanced at the Slytherin table. Bella was staring at the pale girl intently.

Sirius watched Narcissa saunter up to the hat. Her air was deceptive; he knew how fervently she wanted to be in Slytherin. He knew without looking that Bellatrix was watching like a hawk. However, she didn't have long to wait. The hat had only come within an inch of Narcissa Black's head before it shouted "SLYTHERIN." Bellatrix's fond smile, as she proudly welcomed her little sister to the house table, made Sirius' stomach churn.

"Black, Sirius." Ice tingled down Sirius's spine. He pulled himself together. His cousin Andromeda had avoided being a Slytherin, to the fury of the family, so why shouldn't he? He stuck his chin out, and strode towards the hat, trying to ignore the warning look in Bella's eyes.

Sirius was walking up to the hat, face set. James held his breath. 'Please let him be in Gryffindor,' he willed.

The Hat descended around Sirius' eyes, surrounding him in darkness.

'Please let me be in Gryffindor,' he thought.

"Gryffindor, eh?" came a voice in his ear, making him jump. "Well, you're a Black, which would normally mean Slytherin, but there are exceptions."

'Not Slytherin; I'll go anywhere, but please not Slytherin.'

"Not Slytherin?" The voice sounded amused. "But you do have such a thirst to prove yourself. Ah, but you want to be different, you want to break away from your family. You possess great loyalty..."

'Not Hufflepuff!' Sirius thought in a panic. The Hat did laugh this time.

"No, Hufflepuff is not the place for you. GRYFFINDOR!"

Blank glances were exchanged around the hall; at their table the Slytherins looked menacing. Bellatrix's look could have melted the golden cutlery before her. The murmuring began. It took Sirius a moment to realise that clapping was coming from the centre of the staff table. More members of staff joined in, as did the Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. A girl on the Ravenclaw table had stood up, and was cheering at the top of her voice, to the surprise of her friends. Sirius glanced gratefully at Andromeda, the only other Black since Uncle Alphard not to be sorted into Slytherin. The Slytherins remained silent, arms folded.

Bellatrix was livid, and Mother would probably never speak to him again, but he was in Gryffindor House. Sirius didn't care that the Gryffindors were also regarding him warily. He slid into a seat, legs shaking with relief, as "Boot, Richard," was sorted into Ravenclaw. He was a Gryffindor now, he thought happily, watching the sorting with interest, and clapping with enthusiasm when "Evans, Lily" joined their table.

James was clapping, too, even though the unsorted first years hadn't clapped any of the others. He'd better be in Gryffindor now, he thought.

Remus Lupin approached the front of the line. His parents were not of great consequence in the wizarding world, and he had grown up in a remote area. 'Which was because of me,' he thought, knowing that his father had given up a good position in the Ministry in order to lead the out-of-the-way existence they thought their son required. Still, he had read that all Blacks went into Slytherin, and all Potters into Gryffindor. Now that Sirius was in Gryffindor, he decided that was where he wanted to be. With his friends. He savoured the word. His secluded life so far hadn't included friends, or even siblings. Now he was at Hogwarts, a place he never thought he'd be, surrounded by people of his own age, amongst which three, he hoped, were going to be his friends. Longbottom, Frank was walking proudly to the Gryffindor table. Remus felt a pang of jealousy. He approached the hat.

"Ah, now where shall we put you? Slytherin is probably where a werewolf would find most acceptance. No, I can tell you don't like that. Eager to work hard, and lots of talent. Ravenclaw would help you with that."

Remus focused his thoughts on Gryffindor.

"Yes, Gryffindor. There's no need to show me, I already know. Yes, I think perhaps, that would be best."

Applause broke out.

"I bet they don't have anywhere for me." Peter whispered to himself as he shuffled gloomily forward, as "McKinnon, Marlene" became a Gryffindor. Sirius and Remus were already in Gryffindor, and James was bound to get in. But it was a surprise he was at Hogwarts at all; even now he had shown only a few signs of magical abilities. The line of students in front of him diminished.

"Pettigrew, Peter"

He heard James wish him luck behind him, before making his way up the hall, and pulling the hat on.

'Go on, tell me I'm not good enough,' he muttered. The voice made him jump.

"All are good enough; each has a place, Mr Pettigrew. Let me see..."

'Bet I'm in Hufflepuff.'

"No, you do not have the qualities for Hufflepuff."

Peter felt put out. He thought Hufflepuff was the one where all the leftovers were put. If he couldn't even get in there...

"You might do quite well in Slytherin..."

Slytherin! He thought of the mean looking students on the Slytherin table. They'd eat him for lunch.

"No? Well, I'm afraid it's not going to be Ravenclaw. Better be GRYFFINDOR."

In a daze, Peter walked toward the table, remembering to remove the hat after a few steps. Gryffindor. He was in Gryffindor, the bravest house! He couldn't wait to tell his mother.

James stared. He hadn't really expected Peter to become a Gryffindor. In that case, he should be all right. He walked forward, all of a sudden feeling very conscious of his limbs. Sirius, Remus and Peter were smiling at him with easy confidence from the Gryffindor table. He fervently wished he were joining them already. He sat down, the hat in place.

"A Potter. It doesn't seem long since I Sorted your father. He had the same concerns you do. But there is no need to worry; you are a typical Potter and a true GRYFFINDOR."

Well, he couldn't imagine why some people got so worked up about the Sorting. He glanced at the trembling line of students yet to be Sorted and shook his head indulgently, beaming as he sat down and was clapped on the back by Sirius, and congratulated by his new housemates.

They watched as the Sorting continued, getting ever hungrier, booing when "Snape, Severus" became a Slytherin, and cheering as "Walker, Alice" became the last new Gryffindor.

The Headmaster stood up. Albus Dumbledore, the best thing that's happened to Hogwarts in a long time, as James's father described him, thankfully kept his speech down to five words.

"Welcome to Hogwarts. Tuck in."


	2. The Sobriety of Youth

Chapter Two: The Sobriety of Youth

The four boys bounded into the Great Hall, flung themselves into chairs, and began shovelling down liberal amounts of sausages, bacon, egg and toast. Nearby, Lily Evans wrinkled her nose in distaste as she watched them eat. James looked up, reaching for his goblet of pumpkin juice, and caught her expression. He glared back at her.

"If you'd got here on time, you wouldn't have to gobble your food like that."

James did not feel that her snooty comment deserved a response and carried on eating, but Peter paused, his fork half-way to his mouth.

"We got lost."

This admission of failure rankled with James.

"No need to look so smug," he snapped, spraying Lily with crumbs. Lily's cheeks flushed pink.

"I was just pointing out..."

"Well, don't," James cut in. He didn't want his breakfast spoiled by this goody-goody little girl. Anyone could have got lost; most of the first-years had been late for breakfast, owing to the labyrinthine corridors and changing staircases.

"Fine. I hope you do get indigestion, then." Lily pushed away her empty plate, and she left the table with Alice, who was related to James, and who seemed to be Lily's friend. Alice shot James a cross look, and Lily was forcing her eyes wide open as if to keep a tear from spilling down her cheek. As they made to leave the Hall, they were knocked flying by a racing boy. He stopped short and bent down to help them up, a mortified expression on his face.

"Oh, no, I'm so sorry," he gabbled. "Are you okay?"

Alice smiled at him kindly. "It's all right; we're fine,"

"If you'd got here on time..." Lily said, rather crossly.

The boy groaned. "I know, I did try, only I overslept, and I couldn't find my socks. Then, on the way down from Gryffindor Tower, I got stuck in a staircase when the step vanished, and I had to wait for a prefect to pull me out." He grinned at his own helplessness.

Lily's expression softened. "That sounds horrible. The bell's about to go, you've just got time to grab some toast, and then we can find the way to Charms together."

"Thanks." The boy hurried to the Gryffindor table. As he arrived, James and his friends were leaving. They trooped out of the hall, James giving Lily a haughty look as he marched past her.

As he scrambled through the portrait hole after Remus, James wondered what to do next. They had just eaten a substantial supper and were now free for the rest of the day. Peter plonked himself down in a vacant armchair, and the others followed suit, glancing at each other expectantly.

"Well," Remus began, looking as though he knew his suggestion would be unpopular. "We could get started on that homework McGonagall set." Professor McGonagall was their Transfiguration teacher, and the Head of Gryffindor House. She had taken them all aback as she swept into the classroom and immediately launched into her subject, prompting a scrabbling for quills and parchment. She had also set them what was, in James's opinion, an obscene amount of homework.

Sirius looked at Remus scathingly.

"We have seven years to do homework. Can't we do something fun?"

"How about a game of chess?" was Peter's enthusiastic suggestion.

Sirius looked at James in exasperation.

"You two have so much to learn!"

"I'd like to have a better look round the castle; I bet there's loads of places to explore," James said. Besides, he wanted to make sure he knew his way around better than any other first-year. Sirius considered James's words, before leaning forward, his eyes gleaming.

"Why don't we go tonight?"

"Tonight?" Peter said in a tremulous voice.

"Perfect," said James briskly. "We could have as long as we liked, then."

"Is it a good idea to break the rules on our first day?" Remus asked.

"Yes," said James.

"Start as we mean to go on," explained Sirius.

With the promise of excitement that evening, James was happy to while away time in the common room by playing chess with Peter. To James's chagrin, Peter was a decent player, and James found himself wondering whether his father had let him win on the occasions that they had played at home. He was pondering his next move, with Sirius adding 'helpful' comments at his elbow, when a loud squeak distracted him. All four turned to see Alice Walker looking very shocked, as a massive, jet-black bird, which James thought could have been a crow or a raven, flew through the common room. It headed for Sirius, who groaned.

"I might have known," he muttered, looking scared. "Mother," he stated, in answer to the others' querying looks.

The raven landed on the arm of Peter's chair, making Peter shrink back. It gave a throaty caw and extended its leg to Sirius. James saw Sirius' hands shake as he untied a dark green piece of parchment, from which pungent black smoke was wafting. Sirius braced himself, and opened it.

The effect was instantaneous and unexpected. The parchment exploded, and the image of a writhing snake appeared in the air. Faint words could just be heard, but the rest of the common room hadn't noticed, as most had returned to their conversations. Straining his ears, James could make out the words, "shame on the family," "abhorrent creature," and, "bad example to Regulus." He looked at the others, puzzled. Peter's confusion mirrored his own, but Remus was frowning at Sirius, who was bent over, his hands on his ears. His chin was set, but his face was screwed up in pain, and his eyes were watering. Finally, the smoky snake disappeared, and Sirius straightened up. He met the worried expressions of James, Remus and Peter.

"I hate it when she does that," he said, shrugging as if to shake off the experience.

"What was that?" Peter asked in an awed voice.

Sirius pulled a face.

"It's like a Howler, except Mother wouldn't want just anyone to hear her business. So it can only be heard by the person it's sent to." He was talking in a rather loud voice, as if slightly deafened. Suddenly, he grinned. "It seems Mother doesn't like me being in Gryffindor."

James, Sirius, Remus and Peter went to bed that night with barely concealed exuberance. Sirius and James's enthusiasm for the evening expedition had transferred itself to Remus and Peter. They had briefly consulted as to whether the fifth member of their dormitory should be invited along. Frank Longbottom was a tall, friendly boy. James approved of the large Quidditch poster that Frank had pinned beside his bed, but Frank was extremely clumsy (he'd managed to knock over his goblet three times at supper), and they had felt that he would be too much of a liability. Besides, he had spent the day sitting with Lily Evans and Alice Walker, so there had to be something at least partially wrong with him. They were girls, for Merlin's sake.

The night was a success. They found their way to the Great Hall on only their second attempt and ducked behind an old statue in order to avoid detection by Filch, the grizzly caretaker. Giddy with triumph, however, they didn't notice that a stairway had moved, and found themselves creeping down an unknown corridor whose walls were lined with large suits of armour and gilt-framed pictures of people in odd wigs.

"I say, old chap," said Sirius, lifting the visor of a suit of armour and peering inside. "You don't know the way back to Gryffindor Tower, do you?"

To their great surprise and delight, the armour shifted slowly, and with a good deal of clanking, until it pointed to the right. They thanked it and were about to head off in that direction, when Remus thought he saw something and pulled the others back into the shadows. There, they watched in awed silence as the Bloody Baron, resplendent in his pearly gore, floated past. After a few minutes, they dragged Peter from his hiding place and made their way back to the common room, blazing with the spirit of adventure.

"When shall we go again?" Sirius asked the others the next morning, and not even Peter had any objections.

It was a source of pride to James that he got himself a detention within a week of starting school, and the only lessons learnt from the four's capture and punishment were to be cautious around Peeves, the school's trouble-making, tale-telling Poltergeist, and that scraping stinksap from a dungeon wall wasn't as fun as it sounded.

After a week at Hogwarts, Peter, Remus, Sirius and James each felt that they had known each other for years. Peter gloried in the friendship of three boys who were so much braver and cleverer than he was, and Sirius and James basked in his admiration. Remus felt that he was a normal boy for the first time and resolved to enjoy it while it lasted. Sirius was ecstatic to be away from his domineering mother and strict family, while James was pleased to find that Hogwarts had managed to surpass his expectations. James and Sirius quickly became a double act. They were like twins; both were mischievous, daring, and exceptionally bright.

The second week of school brought a pleasure that raised Hogwarts higher in Sirius and James's esteem: Flying Lessons. It had been a great irritation to James that he was not allowed to bring his precious Cloud-duster 1000 with him to school. It had annoyed him even more that his parents weren't prepared to flaunt the rules and let him bring it, anyway. The standard of flying in the first-year ranged from James, who had practically been born on a broom, to Muggle-born Lily Evans, who found it hard to suspend the belief she had held up to a few months before: that the sole function of a broom was to sweep up dirt. Therefore, the group that swarmed out of the school gates on the sunny September afternoon contained many excited, as well as several nervous, faces.

It was brilliant to be back in the air, even if he was riding an ancient Silver Arrow, and James realised how much he'd missed flying as he felt the breeze whoosh past his ears. Sirius sped up beside him, whooping in delight, and the pair played a game of one-on-one Quidditch with the tangerines they'd taken from lunch. Beneath them, they could see other students taking to the air. Remus was an indifferent flyer. His broom obeyed him, which was more than most students managed, yet James thought that his friend was flying very slowly. A fast-moving blur sped past, and James gaped. He'd imagined Frank to be as clumsy on a broom as he was on the ground, yet Frank was zooming across the Quidditch pitch. James gave chase.

"You're not bad," James finally conceded, panting for breath.

"Thanks," Frank said, grinning. "I'm going to try out for the team next year."

"What position do you play?" James already had his eye on the Chaser spot that would be vacated by the seventh-year Captain Rachel Estrey next year, and was prepared to fight for it.

"Seeker," Frank replied, and James at once felt better disposed towards him.

James later discovered Sirius amusing himself by flying very close behind Snape's broom, tweaking its tail occasionally to try and tip him off balance. James was just about to join in when the Flying Master, a burly Welshman named Lewis, roared at them to stop. They moved on, and James identified Marlene McKinnon as a new target. Marlene was a fellow Gryffindor, with dark hair, a slightly long nose and a superior expression. She was from a good wizarding family, and James had met her once or twice at parties. She was already friends with most of the second-year girls, and thought herself too mature to mix with the other first-years. She was daintily perched on her broom a little apart from the throng of flying students. James threw a tangerine at her. To his surprise, she span and caught it with deft ease.

"You can't get me that easily, Potter," she said, laughing and, chucking the tangerine hard back at him, flew away. James looked after her with a slightly worried expression on his face.

"I hope she doesn't want to play Quidditch next year," he muttered.

"Ha! Beaten by a girl at Quidditch, now that would be funny," Sirius snorted.

James fished in his pocket for another tangerine.

"UP!" Peter howled at his disobliging broomstick. He was disgusted that he still couldn't get his broom to listen to him. His mother had never let him fly at home. Next to him, Lily Evans was in a similar position.

"Up!" she pleaded. James, diving low to duck Sirius, who was lobbing tangerines at him, smirked. Lily Evans was good at everything; having no magical background made her more determined to get things right. But she could not get the hang of flying.

"I think it twitched," Alice Walker said, giving Lily an encouraging smile. Lily looked at her inert broom in despair.

"It's your tone of voice," Frank put in. He was hovering a foot off the ground, trying to stand up on his broom. "Talk to it like you do when you're making me do my homework."

"UP!" barked Lily. The broom whizzed into her outstretched hand. She stared at it, amazed. Frank fell off his broomstick.

At the end of the week, Remus announced that he was going home.

"What do you mean, you're going home?" Sirius demanded.

Remus sighed, sounding tired. "My mother's ill."

James looked at Remus. His friend was paler even than usual and seemed worried.

"I hope she gets better soon," he said, cutting off Sirius's remark.

"Yes, well, there's not much hope of that," Remus said in an odd manner, before picking up his book, and burying his nose in it.

The others found this behaviour strange only because Remus had not talked of a sick mother before. Then again, he hadn't told them much about his parents, or about himself. There was an elusive, mysterious quality about Remus that was infuriating, especially for Sirius. Whenever he was asked anything personal, he would get defensive and would quickly go to bed or read a book. James, Sirius and Peter realised that Remus disliked any allusions to his monthly disappearances, and as the term progressed, they avoided the subject, taking for granted that Remus would quietly leave every month and return a few days later after visiting his mother. It did not mean, however, that the matter was forgotten.

"Don't they have house-elves to do this kind of thing?" grunted Sirius as he scrubbed at a particularly tarnished silver cup, finally producing a centimetre square of shiny metal, which he stared at gloomily.

"That would take away from the idea of a punishment," James pointed out, as he grabbed yet another award for Services to the School and began rubbing it vigorously.

"I don't know why you're complaining, anyway," Peter complained, petulantly chucking an old and intricately engraved spoon on to a pile of gleaming silverware. "You're the one who got us this detention."

"The look on Snape's face was definitely worth it," Sirius said, cheering up considerably. James nodded fervently in agreement.

"Priceless. It was a pity that Malfoy was coming around the corner, though."

Malfoy had not been impressed to find the four Gryffindors clutching their sides in mirth, as the Slytherin first-year attempted to get up from his sprawled position on the floor, only to slip again and land spread eagled on his back, thanks to the "Banana Peel Powder" that had been sprinkled on that portion of the corridor. The culprits had been laughing too hard to distance themselves from the scene of the crime, and had been awarded detention by the Slytherin Head of House, Professor Asch.

"It's not fair that Remus got out of it," Peter grumbled.

"His mother's ill! Personally, I'd rather have detention," James said.

Sirius paused in his polishing. A frown appeared on his forehead. "I'm not sure he has gone home," he said slowly.

"'Course he's gone home, he's gone home every month since we've been here,"

Sirius looked thoughtful.

"You know how Bellatrix hexed me after lunch and I had to go to the hospital wing to get the boils removed?"

As predicted, Bellatrix had not taken the shame of one of her family becoming a Gryffindor very well and, perhaps even on his own mother's orders, had taken to hexing Sirius whenever she bumped into him in the corridors. Apparently, she'd also been rather annoyed when Andromeda became a Ravenclaw six years before, but as a second-year, she had known fewer nasty curses.

"Yes," said James, wondering what Sirius was on about.

"Well, I'm sure I saw Remus in there."

"He can't be; he's at home," Peter remarked.

"Maybe he came back early," countered Sirius.

"What was he doing in the hospital wing, then?"

James looked worried. "I hope he hasn't caught whatever's wrong with his mother. She's been ill for ages."

"I'm sure Hogwarts doesn't need this many trophies," Sirius said abruptly. James picked up a massive silver cup, engraved with dates, houses and lists of seven names underneath each year.

"The Quidditch Cup," he breathed. "One day, I'm going to win this."

The next day, Remus returned after lunch as usual, looking pale and exhausted.

"Are you all right?" James asked, concerned, as Remus walked into a Hufflepuff third-year walking the other way.

"I'm fine," Remus snapped, causing the other three to stare at him in surprise. Remus closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"Sorry," he said sheepishly. "I hate travelling by Floo powder, that's all. It makes me really disorientated."

"Oh, I can't stand Flooing," Peter said. "The ash always goes up my nose, and I can never say the names right. Once, when Mum and I were visiting my Uncle Bungo in Cardiff..."

As Peter talked, and Remus nodded with the air of one paying no attention whatsoever, Sirius caught James's eye and gave him a meaningful glance. James shrugged. Sirius getting worked up about Remus only made Remus upset and Sirius annoyed.

"There's nothing wrong." James hissed, as he and Sirius bent over the beetles they were transfiguring into buttons.

"Floo powder doesn't make you that woozy," Sirius hissed back, glancing over at Remus. "And where did he get all those scratches?" For Remus's hands were covered in red welts, and there was a thin red line on his neck, which disappeared down the collar of his robes.

"How am I supposed to know? Maybe he fell into a bramble bush, or got attacked by a baby hippogriff or something."

Sirius gave a brief chuckle, but wasn't distracted from Remus.

"You don't get scratched visiting your sick mother."

James glanced over at Remus, who was slumped on the desk he shared with Peter.

"Mr Potter, when you are quite finished, perhaps you would like to turn your attention to your work."

Both James and Sirius sat bolt upright at the sound of Professor McGonagall's sharp voice. Assuming an innocent expression, James flicked his wand over a little pile of wriggling beetles. They immediately changed into a pile of shiny black buttons. He grinned up at his Professor, who was exasperated to have no negative comment to offer. James's effortless ability at Transfiguration had both surprised and delighted him, and scuppered McGonagall's attempts to punish him for inattention.

Just then, an exclamation was heard from the desk in front. Frank Longbottom, who had been handing out beetles to the class from a large box, had sat down, and got up again very quickly, rubbing his backside. Beside him, Lily Evans suppressed a giggle. Professor McGonagall sighed, wearily.

"Mr Longbottom, I take it we will be requiring another set of beetles."

James and Sirius joined the class in the ensuing uproarious laughter. For the moment, Remus was forgotten. However, Sirius was not about to let the matter rest. His next attempt came the next day, when they were heading down to the Quidditch pitch for flying lessons. The first years had these every fortnight, and they were still James and Sirius' favourite part of the timetable. Remus drifted about the pitch looking as though he'd much rather be reading, whereas Peter still found the whole experience rather terrifying.

"Remus, when did you leave to go and see your Mum?" Sirius asked suddenly. Remus stiffened. Both James and Peter looked at Sirius.

"The day before yesterday. Don't you remember?" Generally, Remus was much more relaxed after these visits home; James supposed it was through relief at knowing that his mother was all right, but now he sounded guarded, although he was trying to remain casual.

"I was just wondering what time you left," Sirius replied. Sirius was a master at sounding casual, but in the three months James had known him he had learnt to tell when Sirius was being serious about something.

"In the morning, why?" Remus asked. His hands were thrust deep into his pockets, his shoulders rigid.

"Oh, nothing, really. Just thought I saw you in the hospital wing after lunch." Sirius' tone was light, but his words were chosen carefully. "Must've been mistaken, mustn't I?"

"It would seem so."

"Last one to the pitch has to ride the Shooting Star," James yelled, setting off at a sprint towards the Quidditch stadium. Sirius, never one to refuse a challenge, let alone be stuck with the worst of the school brooms, followed suit, with Peter at his heels. Remus carried on walking.

"Drop it, Sirius." James and Sirius were sitting in the hospital wing, where Sirius had been sent yet again, after having crashed into a particularly violent tree. Undeterred by a swollen lip, Sirius had tried to raise the mystery of Remus's scratches. Sirius tried his innocent expression, but by now James had seen it used too much to be fooled any longer.

"He obviously doesn't want to talk about it. It must be hard enough with his Mother being sick without you questioning him."

"So you think I'm lying?" Sirius tried to stand up in indignation, but Madame Pomfrey's potion hadn't quite taken effect, and he didn't manage it.

James looked thoughtful. "No. I do think it's odd, though. How sure are you that it was him you saw?"

Sirius frowned. "He was in the end bed, with the curtains drawn. Madame Pomfrey pulled them back to check on him, and, well, I could've sworn it was him, but...it just doesn't make any sense."

James was quiet.

"Y'know, I think maybe you're right, maybe we should just leave it for a while," Sirius said, resting his chin on his hand and focusing on the floral curtains of the neighbouring bed.

Just then, Peter and Remus burst into the room.

"Frank said he'd seen you crash into a tree," Remus said, while Peter looked with interest at Sirius's injuries.

Sirius felt the need to defend himself. "More like the tree crashed into me!"

"What, you mean the tree hit you?" Peter asked slowly, as though he thought that Sirius had been hit a little too hard on the head.

"No, he's right," put in James. "There's this tree that whacks you, Madame Pomfrey said."

Remus looked puzzled. "But what on earth were you doing by the Whomping Willow?" he asked. Sirius shrugged and there was an uneasy silence, until Remus spoke again in a firmly cheerful voice. "So. What is our follow-up going to be to the Banana Peel Powder?

James grinned and leant closer to the other three. "Well, I was thinking..."

That week, Professor McGonagall went around the common room with a list for students to sign if they wanted to remain at Hogwarts over the Christmas holidays. Sirius put his name down immediately.

"You're staying at school?" Remus asked in surprise.

"Yep," Sirius said with relish. "I don't suppose Mother would have me at home, anyway, now that I'm a Gryffindor."

"She can't be that bad," Peter said.

Sirius gave a bitter laugh. "My Mother makes Bellatrix look friendly."

The other three all shuddered. All four of them laughed.

"Still, Christmas on your own isn't going to be much fun," Peter persisted.

"It'll be more fun than at home, I can tell you," Sirius answered.

"Besides," James spoke up. "He's not going to be on his own. I'm staying, too."

All three of them turned to him.

"Yeah, I thought it'd be good to have Christmas here."

"James, I'll be all right on my own, honestly." Sirius looked a little angry.

"Yeah, I know," James said. "But Mum and Dad are always going on about how wonderful Christmas at Hogwarts is," he said, his eyes lighting up, "and I've heard that Snape's staying for the holidays, too."

Sirius' grin threatened to split his face in two. "Brilliant," he crowed.

James smiled. It would be an interesting holiday. Almost as interesting as explaining to his mother why he would not be coming home for Christmas as planned.


	3. In the Shadows of the Night

Chapter Three: In the Shadows of the Night

It was with trepidation that James sent off the letter informing his parents that he would be staying at school for the holiday. Nevertheless, Archimedes, his handsome brown owl, brought him back a cheery reply and a bag of mince pies. James's mother, always anxious to see the good in her son, commended him for nobly staying with his friend, and his father said that he hoped whatever mischief he had planned wouldn't be too dreadful, and had added that he'd wait until after Christmas to carry it out, "if you want an old timer's advice." Both had sent their love, and the love of Grandma, Grandpa, the family house-elves, and the cat.

Remus and Peter left for home, and the holidays stretched out before James and Sirius. The next few weeks were teeming with opportunities to explore the more interesting parts of the castle and to pay Snape a bit of attention.

"So, what are our main objectives?" Sirius asked James over breakfast. "I think we should see something of the forest. We haven't even been in it yet, and there's bound to be loads of unusual stuff in there. And then I think we ought to see if we can work out a quicker way to..."

But James wasn't listening. Instead, he was examining the sausage that was speared on his fork. "House-elf," he murmured.

"No, James, that's a sausage," said Sirius.

"Seriously, do you think there are house-elves at Hogwarts?" James demanded.

Sirius shuddered. "Hope not, nasty little things. They give me the creeps."

James gaped. "What can you possibly have against house-elves?"

"Don't get me started," Sirius said darkly.

James shrugged and decided to leave Sirius's house-elf phobia for another day. "What I mean is, how is all this food prepared?"

Sirius restarted on his breakfast, deciding that the excitement of a holiday had gone to James's head.

"Hogwarts must have a kitchen!" James concluded in triumph.

Sirius's expression remained blank. "Food prepared in kitchen. Gosh, James, you've really outdone yourself, and it's only breakfast time."

"Yes, but what if house-elves work in the kitchen? You know how obliging they are."

"Most of them, anyway," Sirius muttered, but he now appeared interested. "So, if we could find the kitchen..."

"We'd get free food," James said.

"Free food..." mused Sirius. "It's worth a shot. I mean, how hard can a whopping,great kitchen be to find?"

Three nighttime excursions later, Sirius was forced to admit that the Hogwarts kitchen was surprisingly well hidden. They had decided that it must be near the Great Hall, and James reckoned that it was likely to be in the direction of the Hufflepuff common room. However, they had walked down the corridors hundreds of times. They had examined every doorway, but nothing looked as though it would lead to a kitchen. What had started as an idle idea was now a mission. The Forbidden Forest was forgotten; James and Sirius were determined that when Remus and Peter returned to school they would be able to show them the Hogwarts kitchen.

It was Christmas Eve, and James and Sirius were strolling down the underground corridors, without much hope of stumbling across a kitchen, when James began looking very closely at the pictures along one stretch of wall.

"What are you doing?" Sirius asked when he grew tired of watching James stare at a portrait of a thick-armed girl kneading dough.

"All these pictures are of food," James said. "Look."

Sirius looked. He saw a man carving a large roast chicken in a big picture of a family having Sunday lunch. There was a small painting of a pink jelly, which wobbled in its frame. Grapes, bananas, apples, oranges and even a pear jostled each other in a giant fruit-bowl. A trio of turkeys were doing some kind of tap-dance against the backdrop of a polished kitchen table.

"This must be it," he exclaimed, "but how do we get in?"

"Maybe you go through one of the pictures," James said.

"But we don't know the password," Sirius pointed out. The fruit in a nearby painting giggled. Sirius scowled at it.

"It's nearly supper time now. Perhaps we'll see the food go to the Great Hall."

So they waited, much to the amusement of the laughing fruit, but to no avail. Disappointed, they finally sloped off to supper, feeling that the food would taste much nicer if they had known exactly where it had come from.

The next morning James awoke to find himself being attacked by a pillow. "Leave me alone," he said, groggily fending off Sirius's onslaught.

"Get up! It's Christmas!" Sirius said, breathless from repeated bashing.

James's sleepiness evaporated, and he sat up and viewed the pile of presents on the end of his bed with satisfaction. He seized the nearest gift and began tearing strips of wrapping paper from it. Next to him, Sirius was similarly attacking his own pile of presents.

Sirius's presents did not turn out to be as nearly as good as James's. While his family had obviously spent a lot of gold on him, the gifts were ugly, showy, and completely useless. Sirius looked in disgust at the solid silver, monogrammed quill-box in the shape of a snake that his Aunt and Uncle Black had sent him, and in it he shoved the thick, black crow-feather quill that was a present from some obscure relative. A lumpy-looking parcel contained a set of heavy green robes, emblazoned at the collar and cuffs with entwined snakes stitched onto the velvet with silver thread. Sirius scowled at the accompanying note, which stressed the importance of the robes as an ancient family heirloom to be passed to the oldest male of each generation. James noticed Sirius's face soften as he opened a box of chocolate frogs from his younger brother Regulus. Apart from that, the only other presents that had so far afforded Sirius any pleasure were a big bag of sugarquills from his cousin Andromeda, and a book entitled 'The Mischief Maker's Guide to Magical Mayhem' from his Great Uncle Alphard.

James, meanwhile, had unwrapped a set of chess figures from his grandfather, a large amount of Falmouth Falcons merchandise sent by various relatives, a limited edition copy of 'Quidditch Through the Ages', several pairs of socks, a scarf, a woolly hat and gloves all in Gryffindor colours from his grandmother, who was fond of knitting, and had just uncovered a substantial hamper containing all his favourite sweets and the latest Zonkos products, sent by his parents.

Both James and Sirius received jars of Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans from Peter. Wanting to prolong the present opening, they stopped for refreshments.

Sirius popped a bright-red bean into his mouth and chewed. James stopped his unwrapping and watched Shim with interest.

"Cherry," Sirius declared at last. "Not bad."

James picked up a brown bean and examined it. "Could be anything," he muttered, but it turned out to be chocolate.

They ate without serious mishap, (although James had to spit out a Stilton-flavoured bean) until Sirius came across a sickly-green bean peppered with brown spots.

"That's going to be nasty," James said.

"As if I'm scared by a sweet," Sirius replied loftily. He began to eat the sweet with a determined air of indifference, but after a few bites, he froze. His cheeks puffed out, and his eyes bulged. He clapped his hands to his mouth and fled the room. The sound of retching was heard from the bathroom

James made an unsuccessful attempt not to laugh.

After a few minutes, Sirius reappeared, looking extremely shamefaced. "Toad," he said in a hoarse voice.

"Eurgh." James sympathised. "Why don't you have a Chocolate Frog to take away the taste?"

Sirius gave him a tragic look before turning his attention to his Christmas presents.

"James," said a much-recovered Sirius, holding up what appeared to be a blank piece of parchment a few minutes later. "Open your present from Remus."

Puzzled, James searched his diminished pile and came out with a flimsy, but well wrapped, present. He opened it with care. "It's the same as yours."

"Why on earth would he send us parchment?" Sirius said, poking at his parchment with his wand in disdain.

"Maybe he wants us to do our homework," James suggested.

But Sirius wasn't listening. Instead, he was looking down at his piece of parchment, a smile forming on his face. He scrabbled for his quill-box, brought out his raven-quill, and picked up a bottle of ink that was on his bedside table. He began to scribble on the parchment.

James had watched in bemusement, and had just turned his attention back to his presents, when he saw writing form on his blank piece of parchment. He grabbed it. Sirius's aristocratic scrawl read –

"Tap the parchment with your wand."

"Did it work?" Sirius asked.

James answered by reaching for his wand and tapping the parchment. Sirius's writing disappeared, and a neater hand took its place.

_I hope this didn't take you too long to work out. My Dad put a Protean Charm on the parchment. All four of us have a piece. If one of us writes on it, then the other three get the message. You just have to activate the parchment with your wand before you write. I thought it'd be useful for staying in touch in the holidays and for notes in class._

_Merry Christmas,_

_Remus_

"Good old Remus," said James. "Pass me your quill." He scribbled off a reply, which showed up on Sirius's parchment as he wrote.

_Thanks, Remus, the parchment works perfectly. It's a brilliant idea- should make History of Magic a bit more fun! We've had a good time at school so far; we're trying to work out how to get into the kitchens. Hope you are having a good holiday._

_Merry Christmas_

_James and Sirius._

_(Oh and Peter, thanks for the sweets. Sirius got a toad flavoured one!)_

When he saw Sirius picking up his next present, James grinned. "That one's from me," he said.

Sirius gleefully unwrapped a small metal tin. He looked at it closely. It had no discernable join or way of opening it. Sirius shook it. A soft sound like sifting sand came from within. He tapped it with his wand. Nothing happened. James watched, amused.

"Go on then, explain," Sirius said, sighing in resignation.

"Bless you," James answered, and the grey metal of the tin began to swirl in a whirlpool of many colours: blue, purple, and green. When the swirling had stopped, there was a little indent in the top of the tin, at the bottom of which was a small hole.

Sirius peered inside and made out some pink powder. He brought the tin to his nose.

"No!" James's shout made Sirius put the tin down. "Don't smell it. It's sneezing powder."

Sirius tried not to look disappointed. "Oh, thanks."

James's smile widened. "Wait till you try it out. I got my uncle Eric to sneeze for about a week."

Sirius looked down at the innocuous tin in his hands, and a wicked grin appeared on his face.

Sirius had finished opening his presents, and James had only one left, when he glanced down at Remus's parchment, and saw that writing had appeared on it.

_Dear James and Sirius, it read. Glad you are having a good time. Sirius, I'm worried that you can identify 'toad' as a flavour._

"He's got a point," said James. "How come you know what toads taste like?"

_As for finding the kitchens, I think they're somewhere near the Hufflepuff Common room._

"Tell us something we don't know," Sirius said crossly. He was finding their failure extremely exasperating.

_The easiest way to find them would be to follow a house-elf, if you can find one, that is. Thanks for the quills, James, they're fantastic. I'm not sure what it is you've sent me, Sirius. You seem to have forgotten to label the potion bottle. Peter, thank you very much for the sweets. Luckily, I've managed to avoid 'toad', but I did get a beetroot-flavoured one. Disgusting!_

_Remus_

**Dear James, Sirius, and Remus.**

**Glad you like the sweets. Thanks for the book, James, maybe I'll be able to fly properly next term. Thanks for the dungbombs, Sirius. Only thing is I let one off in my room when I unwrapped them, and Mum's furious. This parchment is fantastic, Remus. Do you think we'll be able to take it into exams?**

**Peter**

"I wonder why we didn't think of that," mused James.

Sirius scanned the two letters. "What? Cheating in exams? We don't need to."

"No," James said, waving his hand as if swatting a fly. "House-elves. Why don't we follow a house-elf.?"

Sirius frowned. "Well, we never see them, do we? And a house-elf isn't going to let us follow it around; they only come at night."

"S'pose not," said James, looking disheartened. He began to pull the paper off his final present without much spirit. "It's a pity, though." He stared gloomily at the present he had unwrapped. It was made of some weird, silky, silvery material, that shimmered and shone as the light fell on it...

James let out an ear-splitting whoop.

"What on earth," began Sirius, until he, too, realised what James's present was. " That's never an..."

"Yes, it is." crowed James. "Dad said he had one at school, and he promised he'd give it to me, but then he never did. I thought Mum wasn't going to let him or something." He leapt up and threw the cloak over his head, capering in front of his invisible reflection in the mirror.

"Well," said Sirius thoughtfully, when the two of them had calmed down and were making their way to breakfast. "That cloak's going to make life a lot easier."

The rest of the morning was spent in fierce discussion as to whether the sneezing powder should be used immediately or not. Both James and Sirius were impressed by the beauty of casually sprinkling a bit in Snape's Christmas dinner. It had been the thought that had first sprang to Sirius's mind, and he was loath to relinquish it. Yet if they could only hold on until they had found the Hogwarts kitchen, as they planned to that night, they might be able to spike the food of the entire Slytherin table.

At last, Sirius decided to use the sneezing powder as a treat for when all the other students got back. The temptation of a larger audience and an increased number of victims was too much. He and James resigned themselves for the present to watching what Snape ate, so that the foods he would eat a lot of would contain the most sneezing powder. They overcame the disappointment of delaying the prank by laying plans for setting up their masterpiece.

Their first action was to follow a house-elf. They huddled under the cloak in the Gryffindor common room that night until, at about two o'clock in the morning, a faint scurrying was heard, and two small heads peeked round the portrait-hole. James was impressed at how efficiently the room was cleared. Even the burn marks from the Exploding Snap game that he and Sirius had had that evening disappeared within seconds. Soon the whole room was in order and, with a satisfied nod apiece, the house-elves turned and left the room.

Sirius and James were quick to act. They crept through the portrait hole and shuffled after the elves. It was a long journey. The elves stopped off at several classrooms to clean up, and as they followed them, James and Sirius met many other elves scurrying in different directions. Each little creature, they felt, stared at the space they occupied in an odd fashion. Nevertheless, they finally found themselves in the corridor with pictures of food. They watched as the elves hurried up to the painting of a large fruitbowl. One elf reached up and did something to the picture, which made it swing back, allowing the elves to get through. James and Sirius moved as fast as they could to the tantalising opening, but the portrait swung back before they could scramble through. What had the elf done? They stared at the giggling fruit in desperation. However, luck was with them. About ten minutes later, another elf hurried up to the picture, and James and Sirius, practically breathing down its neck in their anxiety, saw how to access the kitchens. With the blood pounding in their ears, they leaned forward and tickled the pear.

This was how explorers felt when they discovered hidden temples. This was how archaeologists felt when they were the first to enter the tomb of a long-dead king. This was how he himself had felt when he had first walked into Zonko's joke shop. James looked around him in ecstasy. The kitchens were bright and spacious. There were four tables lined up exactly like the house tables in the Great Hall. And among them scampered dozens of house-elves. They were cleaning surfaces, sweeping the already spotless floor, examining various recipe books, and generally skipping about in a flurry of activity. That is, until James drew off the cloak, and the house-elves suddenly caught sight of James and Sirius. Each worker froze in shock and edged towards the others. _En masse_, they advanced towards the two boys, emitting indecipherable high-pitched squeaks. James and Sirius were both thinking the same thing. House-elves were friendly...weren't they? The group advanced, and James swallowed. He wasn't afraid, was he? How could he, James Potter, a Gryffindor, be scared by a bunch of house-elves?

"Hi," he said. "We were, um..."

"A bit peckish..." put in Sirius,

"Yes," James laboured on. "A bit peckish, and we were wondering if, um, if you had any, uh..."

"Food." Sirius finished.

For a second, they were unsure as to how the house-elves would respond, but then the face of each elf lit up, as though someone had lit a torch behind their eyes. The request for food displaced the fright they had received from seeing two boys appear from thin air.

"Of course, sirs," the elves chorused. One of them darted forward. "What is you wanting to eat?"

James and Sirius exchanged a rapturous glance. Sirius took a deep breath.

"Well," he began.

As soon as Sirius started his list, little elves detached themselves from the group, and whizzed to cupboards, pantries, and stoves in order to produce whatever was requested. Within seconds, the boys were surrounded by dish-bearing house-elves, who plied them with bowls of steaming treacle tart, plates piled high with crumpets, platters of warm gingerbread, bowls of ice cream, and mugs of frothy hot chocolate. Christmas lunch had been an enormous affair, and Sirius and James had acquitted themselves well at supper. Nevertheless, they managed to keep the house-elves who were waiting on them very busy for the next twenty minutes, as they devoured all that was put in front of them. When, finally, they could eat no more, they bade the elves goodnight, and returned to Gryffindor tower, occasionally munching on the food that they had been begged to take with them.

"That was well worth all the bother," Sirius said as he collapsed onto the sofa in the common room. "And did you see the tables they use to send the food up on. With the cloak it'll be a doddle to add the sneezing powder."

James's mouth was too full of crumpet to reply intelligibly, but he whole-heartedly agreed.


	4. Sneezes, Snitches and Suspicions

Chapter four: Sneezes, Snitches and Suspicions.

Sirius and James awaited the start of term with gleeful anticipation; their first full-scale prank at school would be a momentous event. It was with great excitement, then, that they welcomed Remus and Peter back to school.

"Hi, Remus," yelled Sirius, as soon as the coaches drew up at the castle, and Remus's head emerged.

"Hi, Remus, how's your mum?" asked James.

"Fine," Remus answered, jumping down from the coach. "I mean, as fine as can be expected," he amended quickly.

"Sirius, did you really get a toad-flavoured Bertie Botts?" Peter asked, as he clambered out into the wintry air, which made his nose turn red.

"Yeah, it was wicked. I could only croak for an hour, and I grew warts on my hands," Sirius said. Remus and James laughed at Peter's awed expression and, joking and jostling, the four made their way to the Entrance Hall.

James and Sirius had decided not to tell Remus and Peter about the planned mischief; they wanted it to be a total surprise. In any case, four people wouldn't fit under the cloak at once, and they needed to add the powder to the Slytherins' food. Just before supper, James looked at his watch and gave Sirius a significant glance. Sirius, who had been playing chess with Peter, lost with indecent haste.

"Right, well, I think Sirius and I will go the library for half an hour before supper," James said, getting up.

Peter looked at them with narrowed eyes. "But we don't have any homework."

"Well, you know," said Sirius airily. "Exams coming up and all that."

Remus snorted. "Fine, then. Come on, Peter, I've been practicing chess over the holiday. I want to see if I can beat you now."

James and Sirius darted out of the portrait hole and dodged behind a statue to put on the invisibility cloak. Careful not to bump into anybody, they crept towards the kitchens, Sirius clutching his tin of sneezing powder.

"Atishoo!"

James and Sirius watched in ecstasy as Lucius Malfoy pulled a large silk handkerchief from his robes and buried his nose in it.

"Bless you," grunted a nearby seventh-year Slytherin called Crabbe. Immediately, Malfoy's sneezing became more violent, earning him a frosty glare from Bellatrix. Then, James and Sirius waited as Bellatrix spooned gravy onto her roast-beef. She lifted a forkful to her mouth.

"What are you two up to?"

Remus's voice caused the two to turn back to their food. Sirius's hand was still holding his fork halfway between his plate and his mouth. Remus and Peter were looking at them in wonder; James and Sirius usually paid every attention to their meals.

"You'll see," James said with a smirk, craning his neck to enjoy the sight of Bellatrix sneezing over and over again.

"Look...Snape's going for it," Sirius whispered. Sure enough, their research had paid off. Snape had reached for the bowl of mashed swedes, his favourite dish, which just happened to be the food most heavily dosed with sneezing powder.

Snape chewed, swallowed, began to lift his fork again, and then his hand stopped, his eyes bulged, his nose twitched.

"Wait for it..." James breathed.

Snape let out a most magnificent sneeze. It drowned out the other afflicted Slytherins and rang through the hall, causing a ripple of titters.

"Bless you," several people called. And then the mayhem began. The laughter of the other students didn't quite cover the monstrous sneezes coming from the Slytherin table. At the staff table, Professor Asch looked as though all the air had been sucked out of his throat and lungs. Professor Whall, the Potions Master, appeared quite unconcerned and was the only person still eating, while Professor Dumbledore seemed to be smiling to himself, even as he held up his hand to stop the laughter. On (At) the Gryffindor table, meanwhile, the culprits could not quite manage to keep straight faces.

"What did you do?" asked Peter, who was squirming in his seat with glee.

"Sneezing powder," James said. Sirius, who was clutching his sides in silent paroxysms of laughter, was incapable of speech.

"How..." said Peter, but Remus spoke at the same time.

"I take it you found the kitchens, then?"

James looked around the hall, from the Hufflepuffs, some of whom were bright red in the face, to the Ravenclaws, who were giggling in groups and pointing, to his fellow Gryffindors, who were banging their fists on the table, to the Slytherin table and particularly to Severus Snape. Snape's eyes were watering, and his nose seemed even larger than usual as he sneezed with such force that James half-expected cutlery and dishes to be blown into the air. Snape obviously didn't carry a hanky, either, and James watched in awed revulsion as his enemy tried to dab his nose with his sleeve without attracting attention. This was all his and Sirius's doing, James thought, and a mix of exhilaration and power coursed through his veins. It was the best he'd ever felt.

"You see, whenever anyone said 'bless you', the powder would make the sneezing worse," Sirius explained to Peter later that evening. Peter was listening with a rapt expression on his face.

"Can we do it again tomorrow?" he begged.

Sirius looked scandalised. "We can't do the same trick again!"

"Well, can we play another prank tomorrow?" Peter asked.

James shook his head. "Let this one die down first. They mustn't know when the next trick will come."

"Oh," Peter said. He looked down at his hands, and then stared at a far corner of the room, where Frank was practicing the hovering charm by levitating Alice Walker's homework over her head. His gaze shifted back to his hands. "Well, I wish you'd told me and Remus."

"If the powder is that powerful," Remus said, "won't it still be activated when someone says 'bless you'?"

"Yeah, it lasted for days last time I used it," said James.

Peter dived for his timetable. "We've got Potions with the Slytherins tomorrow morning," he said, perking up.

"What d'you reckon, James?" asked Sirius.

James thought for a moment. "I'll sneeze when Whall starts to give us homework," he said. "Then you can say 'bless you', Peter."

Peter could barely sit still through the morning's lesson. He kept giving James obvious nods and winks, which Sirius found hugely amusing.

"Do you have something in your eye, boy?" Professor Whall asked at last.

"No, sir." Peter squeaked, and James noted with relief that he dropped his 'conspiratorial' air.

"Good. For next time then, I want a roll of parchment on the..."

"Attchoo!"

Peter pricked up his ears. James had sneezed. His moment had come. He took a deep breath, and...

"Bless you, Mr Potter," Mr Whall said.

James saw Peter sag over his desk and couldn't help smiling.

Several of the Slytherins began to sniff. Professor Whall glared at them.

"As I was saying, before Potter's nasal interruption, I want a roll of..."

"HA- tISHoo!" Snape clapped his hands over his nose. Behind him, Narcissa Black was pinching her nose in an attempt to keep herself from sneezing.

Peter tensed again. 'What if I said it now?' He opened his mouth.

"Bless you," shouted Sirius.

Narcissa succumbed to a loud sneeze. Snape's shoulders shook. One side of the classroom was raining sneezes. Students were frantically patting their pockets in search of handkerchiefs; others had their hands clasped over their faces, with frightened eyes peering above their fingers. On the Gryffindor side, James, Frank, and Sirius were in fits of laughter, while Remus and Alice chuckled. Peter was torn between mirth and disappointment, and in only Lily Evans's face was the amusement tempered by a look of sympathy, as Regina Farrows fled the room, tears streaming down her face. As the door swung shut, they could hear her sneezes echoing down the corridor. In all, it was a very satisfying lesson.

Not everyone was satisfied, however. Peter said little for the rest of the morning, and at lunch he only had one helping of stew. He couldn't even finish his second bowl of rhubarb crumble. No one noticed his preoccupation, and this further irritated him. James and Sirius were messing about as usual, and Remus was joining in as though everything was normal. Peter fumed. They didn't like him at all. They weren't proper friends. If they were real friends they wouldn't have spoilt his chance at making the Slytherins sneeze. It wasn't fair.

On his way back to the common room, someone brushed past him. Peter got even crosser. People thought that he was such a nobody that they didn't even see him anymore. He turned to glare at the person who'd hit him. It was Severus Snape. Peter carried on, but as he walked an idea formed in his head. He looked at the others. They were walking in front of him, three abreast. Sirius said something and they all laughed.

'Right,' thought Peter. With a newborn determination, he turned round and hurried off to catch up with Snape.

James waited to let Sirius climb through the portrait hole.

"Hang on," he said to Remus. "Where did Peter go?"

Remus looked behind him. "That's odd; he was here a minute ago."

James shrugged and followed Sirius into the common room. "You didn't see Peter go anywhere, did you?" He asked.

"Peter? No. Has anyone done McGonagall's homework?" Sirius scrabbled in his bag for parchment and a quill and looked hopefully from Remus to James. Remus handed over a neatly-written scroll. James and Sirius hunched over it.

"You sure you've got that bit right?" James asked after a minute. Remus snatched back his homework and scanned the offending paragraph.

"I was away when you did that," he said. "I just read about it in the book. I didn't quite understand it."

"But it's simple!" Sirius said.

"Well why don't you do your homework yourself if it's so easy?"

"That would take the fun out of life," said James, reaching for his quill and starting to write.

"Besides, this way we can check yours," Sirius said.

"How kind," Remus muttered.

Meanwhile, Peter caught up with Snape in a deserted corridor not far from the library.

"Bless you!" he said, triumph making his nerves tingle. His plan had worked perfectly. Snape stiffened and sniffed. He had not considered the possible repercussions though, he realised, as Snape wheeled round, snarling, with his wand raised.

"You," he hissed, before giving way to a sneeze. He pulled out a hanky without lowering his wand.

Peter wished he had James and Sirius and Remus with him. They would have known what to do.

"Bless you," he said, hoping Snape would be distracted by sneezes. It was the wrong thing to do.

"You little..." Snape snarled. He was cut off by a sneeze, but he waved his wand, and Peter found himself hurtling backwards into the wall. Still sneezing into his handkerchief, Snape advanced towards a cowering Peter.

"Bless you," Peter whispered in desperation.

But Snape seemed to be beyond caring. His eyes showed a malicious pleasure as he slammed Peter over and over into the wall. Peter heard the crack of his own head against the stone and closed his eyes to shut out the image of the other boy's face, transformed with power and hatred. He felt the blows to his body, but could do nothing to shield himself. He was paralysed with fear, his wand was still inside his pocket, and he would have no idea what to do with it, anyway. He wished for his friends as the breath was knocked from his body. Yes, they were his friends now, his dearest, most wonderful friends. This would never have happened to him if they had been there. They would have protected him. Everything was a whirl. Snape's fists in his face, Snape's knee in his stomach. The wall at his back slid out of place, and he tumbled to the floor and lay there, sobbing and moaning, as Snape's sneezes echoed in his ears.

Severus's handkerchief and wand lay forgotten on the floor, as he used his hands to throttle, punch and smash the pathetic little figure in front of him. Peter became the embodiment of all that Severus loathed. Severus was paying back his debts from every time he'd been ridiculed, humiliated and bullied by those arrogant Gryffindors, by that wretched Potter and his friends. Once Peter had fallen, Severus kicked him, picturing Potter or Black lying, whimpering in pain, at his feet. Severus was possessed by some demonic power of rage, revenge, and anger. He wanted to cause pain, to break bones, to rupture flesh, he...

"Snape!"

The ice-cold voice of Lucius Malfoy snapped him out of his fiery passion and brought him back to reality. The Slytherin prefect was leaning against the wall, viewing the scene with distaste.

"You've forgotten yourself, Severus," he said. "A teacher might have walked past, and you would have lost Slytherin points." Malfoy prodded Peter with the toe of his shoe. "It's not worth the bother." He casually summoned Snape's wand. "Never lower yourself again," Malfoy hissed. "Revenge should be taken...effectively and cleanly. Never touch them, otherwise you are no better than a brawling Muggle." He handed Snape his wand. "Five points from Slytherin for fighting in the corridor." He shaped the word 'fighting' as though it was particularly disgusting.

Severus lowered his head and glared at Peter's inert body with renewed hatred.

"And ten points to Slytherin for hurting him," Malfoy said. "Get rid of him, will you? He's blocking the corridor." With that, he stepped over Peter and strolled away.

Peter woke up, feeling that he had forgotten something very important. His brain began to register the signals of pain being sent from all over his body, and he remembered what had happened. Resentment and shame flooded through him. 'Someone could have helped me,' he thought.

He hated himself for needing help. He tried to open his eyes. One lid was stiff and heavy and wouldn't move. He must have a black eye. He examined his face, running his fingers over the swollen tissue. He bet it would look impressive. Well, that was something. He could say that he'd been in a fight. Opening his other eye he made out the shadowy lines of broomsticks. He wondered what he was doing in the broom shed. Slowly, achingly, he eased himself up and banged his head on a shelf, dislodging a pile of old dusters. He had a better look and saw that he was, in fact, in a broom cupboard. His body screamed protest at every movement as he opened the door and crept outside.

It was dark. The halls were illuminated only by guttering candlelight. The poker-playing wizards in the picture opposite were slumped over their table, bar one who was peering at his snoring neighbour's cards. Peter was afraid. He had been around the castle many times at night, but only with James and Sirius and Remus. On his own, the shadows of every corner were terrifying. Every statue, every suit of armour was Filch or a teacher waiting to leap out at him, and every noise coming from the portraits gripped at his heart. Worse, Peter soon realised that he was lost. The nighttime excursions had always been navigated by one of the others, and although Peter had vague impressions that he had seen that tapestry or this statue somewhere before, he had no idea how to get from it to the safety of Gryffindor tower. He didn't know how long he'd been wandering about, getting more and more tired, his bruises becoming more and more painful, when he heard something that made him forget it all.

"Watch it!"

The voice was hushed and indignant. It sounded familiar to Peter's ears, but what scared him was that he could see nowhere for the voice to have come from. All the surrounding portraits were asleep.

"Well, if you weren't taking up all the room..."

A new voice, in the same cross whisper. Peter looked in terror at a nearby suit of armour. What if someone was hiding in it? He debated with himself whether to flee and risk the owners of the disembodied voices being alerted to his presence, or to stay where he was and hope that whoever it was didn't notice him. A third voice made the decision unnecessary.

"Ssh! There's someone there."

"Is it him?"

"Well, how am I supposed to know?"

"You're nearest."

There came sounds of shuffling, and Peter let out a frightened yelp as James appeared from nowhere, followed by Remus and Sirius as they took off the invisibility cloak.

They were surprisingly near Gryffindor tower. A secret passageway behind the tapestry that Peter had thought he recognised took them almost straight back and, within ten minutes, James and the others were in the common room.

"What happened to you?" asked Sirius, eyeing Peter's injuries.

"I was in a fight," Peter said.

"Beaten to a bloody pulp, more like," said James. "Who were you, erm, fighting?"

"Snape."

"The slimy little..." James looked dangerously close to leaping out of the portrait hole in search of Snape.

"I'm going to go over there right now and..." Sirius growled.

"Do either of you even know where the Slytherin common room is?" Remus asked.

James and Sirius calmed down a little. "But I'm bloody well going to show him a thing or two tomorrow," Sirius grunted.

"Why did you have a fight?" Remus asked Peter. James and Sirius turned to Peter, too, as though they'd just remembered him. Peter felt his face grow hot as he relayed the story.

"Well, that was stupid of you," Sirius drawled, once Peter had finished.

"Honestly, Peter," said James in a cutting voice. "You got us really worried."

"We wondered what had happened when you didn't turn up to Transfiguration," Remus began.

"We knew something was wrong when you missed supper," said James,

"And all the time you were lying in a broom cupboard!" Sirius began to laugh, and the others joined in.

That second term sped by in a rush of lessons, homework, visits to the kitchen, flying practice and illicit adventures, and was punctuated only by Remus's visits home and occasional run-ins with Bellatrix and Snape. James went for days without even remembering his home or parents, and he found it hard to believe that he had ever lead a life that wasn't centred around Hogwarts. To go home during the Easter holidays was unthinkable; he and Sirius wanted to explore the Forbidden Forest. They had abstained from doing this during term time as four of them couldn't fit under the cloak (they had tried), and they thought it unfair to leave anyone behind. However both Peter and Remus went home as before, and the long evenings made exploring a lot easier. Apart from one occasion, when they'd huddled together under the cloak in abject terror as a spider the size of a bull scuttled past, their forest walks were great fun. In the daytime, when not playing Quidditch in the hopes of being talent-spotted and invited to join the house team, they took to visiting the gamekeeper, the enormous Hagrid who had met them off the Hogwarts Express.

All too soon the holidays were over, and exams loomed on the horizon. While Gryffindors such as Lily Evans, Alice Walker and, to James and Sirius's disgust, Remus, spent an increased amount of time studying, James and Sirius had a bigger preoccupation; the final of the Quidditch Cup was drawing near. To their disgust, Gryffindor had lost their matches 120-50 and 90-30, but the fact that they weren't in the final didn't dampen their enthusiasm for it. Hufflepuff were facing the Slytherins, and James was desperate for Hufflepuff to win.

It was a breezy April day, perfect Quidditch conditions, thought James as he, Sirius and Peter strolled down to the Quidditch pitch on the Saturday of the final. Remus was with his mum again.

"But it's the Quidditch final!" James had said, on hearing that Remus was going home. Remus had looked uncomfortable.

"Yes, well, I'm not that much of a fan."

"But it's the final," James spluttered. He couldn't believe that anyone would miss Quidditch. Moreover, Remus had watched the first two matches with interest.

"It'll be amazing," Sirius added. "Can't you see your mum on Sunday instead?"

"It's all arranged," Remus said. Tension was knotting the veins in his wrists as he turned and marched away.

The others watched him go, James mouthing, "But it's Quidditch," to his departing back.

And Quidditch it certainly was; Quidditch in its most exhausting, nerve-wracking, nail-biting form. The teams were evenly matched, and goal followed goal followed goal, with no sign of the Snitch. Midday came, and the audience had to shield their eyes as the sun sat high in the sky. James was itching to join in, and, next to him, he could see Frank searching the sky for the Snitch as avidly as any of the Seekers. Four hours later Rosie Honeyduke, whose father owned a famous sweet shop in Hogsmeade, was the first to fall from her broom in sheer exhaustion. The Hufflepuff Keeper had suddenly lurched and slipped off into the cloudless sky. Luckily, Eddie Abbot, a Hufflepuff Chaser, had caught her, and a time-out was called. The players were allowed some water, and several substitutions were made. By this time, even Lucius Malfoy's pale face was pink with the heat, and his blonde hair was slicked with sweat.

"Is it over?" Lily Evans asked Frank.

Frank laughed. "No way. It doesn't finish until someone catches the Snitch. Quidditch can go on for months sometimes."

"Months?" Lily slumped back in her seat. "I wish I'd brought a book."

A book? To a Quidditch match? James shook his head in disbelief. Even so, by seven o'clock, James found himself rather wishing that the Hufflepuff Seeker would hurry up and catch the Snitch, and that he could go and get some supper. Peter was snoring gently, and Sirius was amusing himself by burning small holes in Peter's robes with his wand. Suddenly, the depleted, sleepy crowd began cheering. Peter jerked awake, and Sirius jumped and set fire to his jumper in surprise at the noise.

"Look," James yelled, pointing to a mere speck in the distance. The Seekers were diving, a shot of yellow, closely followed by one of green. Malfoy had the better broom, but the Hufflepuff Seeker was just hanging on to her lead. A few more seconds, and the crowd roared in delight as the Snitch was finally caught, and the tired teams flew slowly down to earth.

"That was amazing," Sirius said, as they joined the crowd that was swarming back to the castle.

"It's a pity Remus wasn't there," Peter said.

James said nothing. Instead, he was staring up at the clear sky, in which the shape of the full moon was beginning to emerge, and something tugged on his memory.


	5. Willows and Werewolves

Chapter Five: Willows and Werewolves

The niggling feeling that James had felt on the night of the Quidditch match refused to go away. He was sure that he was missing something very obvious. It was an infuriating feeling - as though there were something he wanted very much that lay just out of his reach. Remus came back to school the next day, as usual looking severely scratched, as usual unwilling to talk about his mother, and James was infuriated. He was sure now that Remus's disappearances were a mystery, and that he held the key to it, if only he could just think.

"James, are you all right?"

James jumped at the sound of Remus's voice. "Yes, I'm fine, of course I'm all right. Why shouldn't I be?" He looked up to see the puzzled faces of his dorm mates staring at him.

"A bit preoccupied, are you?" Sirius asked, smirking.

James looked down at his back to front robes. "I thought I could start a trend," he said.

"And the sock?" asked Frank.

James saw that the thing that he had been trying to jam onto his head was indeed a sock.

"Maybe he's trying to get his hair to lie flat," said Sirius.

Everybody forgot James's strange dressing in the ensuing battle, but James felt that he had to work out the Remus mystery before he went completely barmy.

May brought warmth and sun to the castle, but the approaching exams meant that few of the older students were disposed to enjoy the weather. The fifth and seventh years became more and more unreasonable. James was quite prepared to stay out of the library; he never went there, anyway, but he resented being told to be quiet whenever he so much as breathed in the Gryffindor common room. He, Sirius, Remus and Peter took to lounging outside during the weekends and mild evenings. Remus tried to encourage them to take books with them, but James, Sirius, and Peter never felt like doing work. Instead, Sirius devised a game, which became popular with many of the younger students. Ever since flying into it on his broom, Sirius had been fascinated by the Whomping Willow. Hagrid had told him that it was a new addition to the Hogwarts grounds and had only been planted there the previous summer.

On a Sunday morning in mid May, the four of them were lying under a tree near the Whomping Willow. Remus was reading his Potions book, Peter and James were playing 'slapsies', or rather, James was hitting Peter and dodging Peter's attempts to hit him. Sirius was lying flat on his back, watching a bird trying to perch on the Whomping Willow. The tree remained still as the little bird flew closer and closer, until it suddenly swung out one of its branches in a vicious swipe, and the bird spiralled out of the air.

"D'you suppose that thing just attacks anything that comes near it?" Sirius asked.

"Looks like it," said James, withdrawing his hands just before Peter could slap them.

"I bet I could get close enough to touch it," Sirius said.

"No you couldn't," James said, catching Peter's hands with a stinging slap.

"Wouldn't it be dangerous?" asked Peter, who was rubbing the back of his left hand.

Remus lowered his book. "Yes, it would. That tree's lethal."

Sirius sat up. "Don't be pathetic. I'm hardly going to be beaten up by a tree."

James sniggered. "Not again, anyway."

Sirius got to his feet. "I didn't know it was going to hit me then. Now that I know, I won't let it get me."

"Bet you can't touch the trunk," James challenged.

"Bet I can!"

"Bet you can't."

"Bet I can!"

"Okay, go on then."

Peter, whose eyes had flicked from James to Sirius as though he were watching a tennis match, cheered loudly. Sirius approached the tree with a confident swagger.

A minute later, he retreated with a bloody lip.

"Nah, I was just testing it out. I'll get it next time," he said in a slightly muffled voice. "Fine, you do it, then," he said at James's derisive look.

James got up and looked thoughtfully at the tree.

"You're mad," Remus said. "Just so you know,"

James did better than Sirius, managing to dodge the flailing branches for several minutes before a thick branch got him in the stomach. He hadn't got near the trunk, though.

"Hey, Potter! What are you doing?"

Gideon Prewett, a fourth year Gryffindor, who was on the Quidditch team, had been sitting with a group of friends nearby. He strolled over.

"This tree hits everything that comes near it. I was trying to get past the branches," said James, panting.

Gideon looked at the Whomping Willow, which was flexing its branches in a menacing fashion.

"Cool," he said.

By lunchtime, quite a crowd had gathered around the Whomping Willow, watching those brave, or stupid, enough to face its branches. So far, a third year boy that James thought was called Lovegood was the best, having managed to reach within inches of the trunk before being sent flying. Sirius had had another go and had held the tree at bay for almost five minutes. Many boys wanted to prove their bravery, skill, and dexterity, and trying to touch the trunk of the Whomping Willow became a consuming sport over the next few weeks. Sirius and James loved the thrill, the danger, and the applause of the other boys. Peter enjoyed watching and cheering, while Remus sat by, trying to revise. Every so often, he looked as though he were about to say something, but always remained silent.

Sirius's game was an effective way of avoiding revision, and James, Sirius, and Peter did very little before their exams. On the morning of their first exam, Peter looked rather green, while Remus quietly stared at his plate at breakfast, without eating a bite. James and Sirius appeared completely oblivious, joking and taking advantage of the other Gryffindors' lack of appetite by eating even more. Frank was also eating heartily, stopping now and then to try to get Lily Evans to finish her toast. Next to them, Alice Walker was chewing her lip rather than her breakfast.

As he walked to the Charms classroom, James felt the merest hint of nerves. He hoped he did well. He didn't want to let his parents down; he wanted them to be proud of him. If he didn't get good marks, and he hadn't revised, he knew they'd be disappointed. He didn't see how he couldn't do well, though. He and Sirius had never done much work, and yet they'd always been among the best in each class.

"What did you think of that?" Sirius said as they emerged from the written exam.

"Doddle," said James.

Remus looked satisfied. "That wasn't too bad."

Peter was shaking. "Can't we use the parchment for the next one?" he begged.

The parchment was Remus's Christmas present, and while the four of them had used it a good deal in lessons, James, Sirius, and Remus refused to cheat in exams.

"You know we can't, because of the quills," James said, referring to the anti-cheating quills with which they'd been supplied.

Peter groaned. "I hope the practical exam's better."

Professor Flitwick always set the same exam, Gideon Prewett had told James. You had to get a pineapple to tap-dance across a table. He and Sirius had tried to teach Peter how to do it, with limited success.

James thought his pineapple danced quite well, and he had even managed to get it to bow at the end.

Transfiguration went equally well, and James was pleased that he hadn't bothered with revision. He turned his hedgehog into a pincushion with ease. Knowing that marks would be awarded according to how nice the pincushion was, he made a handsome tartan one and gave it a ring of lace at the top and bottom, like the one their house-elves used at home. Professor McGonagall had even smiled at him. Not everyone found it so easy. Alice had to be comforted by Lily when her pincushion scuttled away as Professor McGonagall tried to stick a pin in it. Peter's pincushion looked as though scores of pins had already been stuck in it; he hadn't managed to remove the quills.

Sirius was the best at Potions, but James hadn't found the sleeping potion too difficult. He spent most of his time glowering at Snape, who finished his Potion first and stood by his cauldron looking bored. Remus looked rather strained at the end of that exam, whereas Peter seemed about to sob into his cauldron. History of Magic, in which James mainly slept, Herbology, in which Frank tripped over a bag of compost and got covered in it, and Defence Against the Dark Arts, taught by the strict Professor Asch, all whizzed past without a problem. Astronomy was the last exam; it took place at midnight at the top of the Astronomy tower. After finding Sirius (the star) and labelling parts of his star chart, James looked up at the moon, which shone mottled silver in the sky. It was large, almost full. But not quite. James could see the slightly irregular side, where a sliver was still lost to the dark sky. Next to him, Remus was scratching in the names and positions of the stars. Then James watched as Remus looked to the moon, as he had done. The moonlight washed over Remus's upturned face and made it look paler than usual. There was an odd expression in his eyes.

James watched and began to understand.

Remus went home a few days later, and James, who had been closely observing his friend, felt his understanding turn into a dreadful conviction as he paid no attention to his morning lessons. Straight after lunch, James told Sirius and Peter that he needed to talk to them.

"But James, can't it wait?" Sirius whined. "It's my go with the Whomping Willow next, and I'm sure I'll do it this time."

"It's about Remus," said James in a low voice. Sirius looked towards the sunny grounds, then back to James and sighed loudly.

"All right, but this better be good," he said, following James, with Peter at his heels.

They went to their dormitory, and James locked the door, even though Frank had last been seen heading for the grounds.

"Why all the secrecy?" Sirius asked.

James frowned. "I'm not sure. But something isn't right with Remus's trips home."

"Well I said that in our first term!" said Sirius. "And if I remember correctly, you told me to drop it."

"I know, I know," said James. "But there's more to this, I'm positive."

"Why?" asked Peter, sitting down on his bed and looking at the others.

"Well," James said. "Do we think that Remus really goes home?"

"No," said Sirius, at once. "At least, not all the time. I _saw_ him in the hospital wing, I know I did."

"And I'll tell you something else I've noticed," James said. "When do you reckon Remus goes home exactly?"

"Every month," Peter said promptly.

"No, that's not right," said Sirius, thinking hard. "He went today, which is Monday, but he was away for the Quidditch final, which was a Saturday. Sometimes he's away in the middle of the week, and sometimes he's away for the weekend. So he doesn't go the same time every month."

"Exactly. He goes every twenty nine days," said James. "I worked it out."

Sirius began to frown.

"But why is that important?" Peter asked.

"So he goes -" Sirius said.

"Whenever there's a full moon," James told them.

Sirius dived ("Dove" hmmm, I don't know, I think I prefer 'dived'. I read 'dove' like the bird.unless I think about it) for his trunk. "Right," he said, emerging with a copy of 'Fantastic Beasts And Where To Find Them'. James's heart sank as he watched Sirius flick to the back of the book. With Peter hovering over their shoulders, they pored over the page.

_Werewolf:_

_M.O.M. Classification XXXXX_

_The werewolf is found worldwide, though it is believed to have originated in northern Europe. Humans turn into werewolves only when bitten. There is no known cure. Once a month, at the full moon, the otherwise same and normal wizard or Muggle afflicted transforms into a murderous beast. Almost uniquely amongst fantastic creatures, the werewolf actively seeks humans in preference to any other kind of prey._

They read the passage in silence. James finished and looked up, to see Sirius staring at him. He knew that he was seeing his own expression on Sirius's wide-eyed face.

"What," said Peter. "Do you think that Remus's mum is a werewolf?"

James thought quickly, hoping that by some miracle Peter had leapt to the right conclusion. But he couldn't make it make sense, for in that case, Remus would stay away at those times. Anyone who came in contact with a werewolf was in danger of being bitten and becoming a werewolf themselves, and... No. His first guess had been right. Cold realisation drenched him, and he gasped and shuddered. He shook his head, trying to clear away the idea. It couldn't be right; it couldn't make sense. It did. The certainty of it was like lead in his stomach.

"I don't suppose he just likes watching mooncalves or something," Sirius said.

"No," James said. "It's Remus. Remus is a werewolf."

"He can't be," said Peter.

"Why not?" Sirius asked.

"He just can't." Peter sounded rather panicked. "He's Remus, not a werewolf!"

"So what do we do?" asked Sirius, ignoring Peter. "Do we tell him?"

"I think so," James said. "Maybe we should do some research."

"You're out of your minds," Peter said. "Remus isn't a werewolf. They don't allow werewolves at Hogwarts."

But it became clear that they did. Sirius and James spent hours in the library that evening, reading every chapter on werewolves they could find with a concentration that they had never devoted to their lessons. They stayed until Peter fell asleep over his book, and until Madam Beaupre indicated that the library was closing. With every detail, they became more and more certain that they were right. The tiredness, the scratches, the disappearances every full moon – it all fitted.

Even Peter was finally convinced.

"Sh-should we tell Dumbledore?" He asked the other two as they crept back.

"He must know," said James.

"Yeah, they've made arrangements for him, haven't they?" said Sirius.

"But...a werewolf at Hogwarts...it's not safe," Peter stammered. "It said in the book that they like to attack humans."

"It must be safe," James said. "Dumbledore wouldn't put everyone in danger."

"Anyway, he's gone when it's the full moon."

"Remus isn't going to attack you, Peter," said Sirius

Peter looked at his two friends, sighed, shrugged, and hurried after them.

That evening, the three of them leaned out of the dormitory window and stared at the full moon. It was a perfect circle hanging in the sky.

"What are you doing?" asked Frank when he walked in from the bathroom, his hair sticking on end. "Is something happening?"

"Nope, we're just admiring the moon," Sirius said.

"It's beautiful," James said.

Frank shook his head and decided not to comment as he climbed into bed.

For a long time, James lay awake and, although he'd drawn the hangings round his bed, he could still see the hovering, silent moon when he closed his eyes. As he drifted off to sleep, he fancied he could hear a wolf's howl.

James both dreaded and looked forward to seeing Remus. He didn't want to have to face Remus and expose his secret, but he felt that it must have been extremely uncomfortable for Remus to have to hide from his friends. James hoped that by telling Remus that they knew, he, Sirius and Peter could help him a bit.

'At any rate, we can help him catch up,' he thought, making sure that his Transfiguration notes were legible so that Remus could copy them. James thought it very mean of McGonagall to carry on teaching them lessons after exams in her same, strict way. At lunchtime, however, something happened to wipe all thoughts of Remus from his mind.

Several people had by now succeeded in touching the trunk of the Whomping Willow. One of them was Mickey Lovegood, who became a hero for the first time in his life when his fingers were the first to brush the bark of the Whomping Willow's trunk. The fact that he was then flung backwards twenty feet was overlooked in the general euphoria. Another such boy was Davy Gudgeon. Davy was a wiry little Hufflepuff second-year. He was so pleased with himself at attaining the goal that he kept on with the game, trying to touch a second and then a third time. Now that the exams had finished, more and more students were eager to pit themselves against the Willow, or to watch those who were. That lunchtime, there was a mass of students from all years and houses surrounding the tree.

"Gudgeon! Gudgeon! Gudgeon!" the crowd chanted.

"And Davy Gudgeon faces the tree, looking to conquer it an unprecedented fourth time," said Sirius, who had taken it upon himself to act as a commentator. "He dodges neatly to the right, and then to the left. Drops to the ground to avoid a low swinging branch, nice roll to get out the way there. There must have been something in the spaghetti today, because Gudgeon is on top form!"

This heralded a laugh from the spectators, and even Davy glanced at Sirius, taking his attention from the tree for a split second.

It was enough.

"Wumph!" A branch smacked Davy across the face. There was a grasp from the crowd as Davy sank to the ground as if in slow motion.

"Quick! Someone get him out," someone screamed.

James darted forward, along with Sirius and Mickey Lovegood. The tree swung its branches at all three assailants, until Mickey finally managed to grab Davy's foot, and James and Sirius helped to pull him out. The panicked crowd became more so at the sight of Davy's face. His nose looked crumpled in, and there was so much blood; it ran down his forehead, his cheek, his lips. One eyelid was torn, and none of them wanted to look at the blood-tinged eye underneath.

"Get him to the hospital wing!"

A couple of seventh-years levitated the limp body and started towards the castle. The crowd followed behind, making a slow and scared procession up to the hospital wing.

Madam Pomfrey drew her breath in sharply between her teeth at the sight of Davy's battered face. The mass of students, all of whom had feared the matron's wrath at their dangerous pursuit, were all the more frightened by her grim silence. She didn't even have to order them to leave; guiltily and silently, the students retreated, leaving Davy's friends hovering nervously at the door. James, Sirius, and Peter were among the last to leave, but not until they had all glanced at the furthest bed, whose hangings were drawn, and looked significantly at each other.

Remus appeared in time for Charms that afternoon. During the lesson, James stole quick glances at him, noticing the scratches running across his face that had so intrigued Sirius. It all seemed so obvious now. Professor Flitwick could have been talking about Quidditch for all James knew; throughout the lesson, he went over the scene that was to take place later that evening. How did you go about telling your friend that you know he's a werewolf? Peter had been all for using the enchanted parchment and telling Remus in the lesson. While the idea was attractive in that it would be a lot easier to write, "Remus, we know you're a werewolf," than to look him in the eye and say it, James thought it would be cruel to spring it on him with other people about. So they would have to wait.

Supper was a tortuous affair, with the Gryffindor table buzzing with talk of Davy Gudgeon: Madam Pomfrey had had to send him to St Mungo's. Davy might well lose his eye...Davy had been blinded...Davy would never even walk again... Meanwhile, James, Sirius, and Peter found the food they ate turning to rubber in their mouths. Neither James nor Sirius was their usual boisterous self, and they cringed under Remus's puzzled looks. They were almost glad when supper was over, and, having seen Frank safely established in the common room, they dragged Remus up to the dormitory.

Remus sat on his bed and looked confused at the three solemn faces staring at him.

"What's wrong?" he asked. "What have you done?"

Peter looked at Sirius, who looked at James. James teetered on the brink of his confession.

'Better get it over with,' he thought.

"Remus, we know," he blurted out.

Remus frowned. "What do you know? Our exam results? They can't be that bad, can they?" His eyes were on the floor, occasionally shooting his friends a pleading glance.

"No, Remus, we know that you're a, well, that you're-" Sirius tried, staring doggedly at Remus. Peter's gaze kept sliding from Remus, and he seemed afraid of the forlorn figure sitting on the bed. A closed look appeared on Remus's face.

"We know you're a werewolf," James said in a rush.

The silence was deafening; it roared in James's ears like the wind did when he flew. Then, Remus stood up. Peter flinched and took a step towards Sirius.

"Oh," Remus said. His voice was steady and calm, and yet James had the impression of a vast, suppressed emotion hiding behind the eyes, which burned in Remus's pale face, across which the scratches showed a livid red. As if he were aware of James's thoughts, Remus trailed his hand along the lines of broken skin.

"How long have you known?" he said at last.

"Only a day or so," Sirius said.

"You noticed the moon?" Remus asked, still standing perfectly still and speaking in a composed voice.

"Yes," James nodded. "At the Quidditch match and then again in the Astronomy exam."

A dry smile appeared on Remus's face. "I thought you were getting suspicious."

James didn't like this. Remus was too collected; he was being too careful with his words. The tension in the room was becoming unbearable, and a glance at Sirius showed he felt the same.

"We just thought we'd better tell you that we know. We thought it might make it easier," Sirius said.

Again, there was that awful cool smile on Remus's face, and behind the mask, the burning eyes...

"Yes, much easier," Remus said, and James thought he heard the smallest waver in his friend's voice. "I'll go and tell McGonagall that you want me to change rooms, then, shall I?"

"Why would we want you to change rooms?" James asked.

"Well, because you don't want to share with a werewolf. It's all right." Remus's face was blank.

"Yes we do, you prat," Sirius said loudly.

"You're still our friend," Peter said in a tremulous voice,

"You don't get rid of us that easily," James said, smiling.

Remus's blank expression dissolved, and he looked away, while the other three became very interested in the lid of Sirius's trunk. After a few moments, Remus walked over to them.

"Thanks," he said.

Sirius punched Remus on the arm, James clapped him on the back, and Peter, after a moment's indecision, pulled a rather warm Chocolate Frog from his pocket and handed it to him. Remus smiled at them all, his usual smile rather than his horrible cold one, and in that moment a bond was forged between them all that would never be easily broken.


	6. The House of Death

**Chapter Six: The House of Death**

"Yes, Mother. James has done well. He came top in his year in Transfiguration and second in Charms, third in Potions and third in Defence Against the Dark Arts.

"Joint third with Sirius," James amended.

James's grandmother beamed at him.

"The thing about James," she said, as though about to impart some great and closely guarded secret, "is that he's very clever."

James's father winked at him before turning back to Elizabeth Potter.

"What was your best subject, Mother?"

James's grandmother thought for a moment, urging her memory to penetrate the thick clouds that pain and time had formed in her foggy brain.

"Transfiguration," she said at last, a twinkle of triumph in her eye. "How did James do in Transfiguration, Jolyon?"

"James came first out of his year in Transfiguration," James's father said again.

"Pardon, dear? You have taken to speaking rather softly nowadays,"

"James-came-top-in-Transfiguration."

"Don't speak like that, Jolyon! I'm not simple."

James chuckled at his father's cowed expression.

"Yes," continued his grandmother. "I was always good at Transfiguration, you know." She tried to pull herself into a more upright position among the pillows, but had to be helped by James's father. "He'll get that from me," she said proudly, looking past James at a large picture of a young woman hanging on the wall. "Reginald always was useless at Transfiguration, and you're just like your father, Jolyon, dear."

At this remark she patted the hand of James's grandfather, a tall, gaunt looking man stationed by his wife's bedside. Both Reginald and Jolyon Potter had light brown hair and rather long, thin faces. Both looked at Elizabeth with a mixture of love, pity and pride.

James watched the scene and rather wished he were outside, playing Quidditch. This was, after all, only his second day with his broom. But even James grudgingly admitted that his grandmother was more important. It'd been a nasty shock, when he'd come home, to see her like this. She had suffered ill health for a while, which was why his grandparents had eventually decided to move back into Ketterleigh Castle, the house they had forfeited in favour of their son and his wife before James was born. Now he realised, as he took in the withered figure smothered in a quilt despite the warm July weather, that his granny had come here to die.

Her hair was the only part of her that hadn't faded, aside from her spirit. It hung in two thick coils and snaked across the pillows, a gleaming chestnut against the white linen. Underneath the beautiful hair, her eyes peeped out of their encircling wrinkles, making her look like a gingerbread man whose currant eyes have been pushed too far into the dough. Laid out on a nearby chair was what looked like the beginnings of a jumper, in a bold Gryffindor red.

"Do you want your knitting, Granny?" he asked, noticing that the gnarled hands were pulling at the bed cover. They were not used to lying idle.

"No, thank you dear," she said. "I think I need some new needles. Those old ones won't knit properly any more."

James's grandfather coughed, a dry, choking cough that sounded like a sob.

It was a horrible month. James hated feeling that he was supposed to be miserable all the time. The house had a hushed, mournful air about it; sickness pervaded the atmosphere like an encompassing fog. Every creaking stair or slamming door sounded indecent in this house of death. Every time James began to whistle, or to slide down the banisters, he would remember that a life was ending only feet away, and he would stop. He hated going into the room, the room that now even smelt ill. The unnaturally sweet air seemed cloying and diseased. He hated seeing his granny like that. He was used to seeing her sitting in her chair knitting, or, on a good day, bustling about the kitchen, always ready with some freshly-made treat for her grandson.

His parents encouraged him to see her, knowing how much Elizabeth doted upon James. But James hated spending time with the bedridden and increasingly confused figure, who would gaze at him with unseeing eyes and ask him whether young Reggie Potter had called for her yet. Worse was seeing his grandpa standing sentinel by her side. When she lapsed back in time, he would look at her, his craggy old face full of such sadness and love brought on by the tender memories, that it was awful even for James to watch.

James spent a lot of time out on his broom. Ketterleigh Castle had its own Quidditch pitch hidden in the woods to the side of the house, that James's father had added. However, his father wouldn't play with him very often, and James had to steel himself against the stabs of guilt he felt when, after joyous, air-borne minutes, he realised he had forgotten about his granny.

He missed his friends. He had hoped to invite them over to Ketterleigh Castle, especially Sirius, who was having a miserable time at home, but that was impossible. Peter said that his mother didn't like having lots of people around. Almost a month into the holiday, however, James received a note on his parchment from Remus.

**Hi, I hope you are enjoying the holidays. I was wondering if you three wanted to come over for a few days next week. Our house isn't very big, but, if you don't mind, I thought we could camp in the garden. Mum says it's fine, so let me know.**

**Remus**

Underneath, Sirius had already replied.

_Remus, you are brilliant! It'll be great! As for sleeping in the garden, I'd sleep in the Forbidden Forest if it meant getting away from this hellhole. When can I come?_

_Sirius_

James frowned at the parchment. It would be fantastic to get away. It would be wonderful to see his friends. But he couldn't. To leave when his grandmother was so ill would be wrong. It would upset his parents. He couldn't just go and have fun. No, he was stuck in the house of death. He sighed and picked up a quill.

**_Sorry, I'd like to come, but I can't. My grandmother's ill, so I have to stay at home. Hope you have fun, anyway. Sirius, sleeping in the Forbidden Forest sounds like an idea for next year. What do you think?_**

**_James_**

He was still glaring at the parchment when he heard his mother's amplified voice calling him.

"James! Supper's ready!"

He thundered down the stairs. His mother was in the dining room, in which his grandfather liked to eat. James preferred the castle's warm kitchen, but, instead, the four of them had their meals at one end of the large table that could easily seat forty people, watched by portraits of long-dead Potters.

His mother ruffled James's messy black hair that was just like her own, before turning to light the large torches that hung on the walls.

"Brr," she said, shivering. "Nasty old room this, isn't it, James?"

Just then, a house-elf scurried through the door, holding a covered tray. The Potters had two house-elves, Gilly, who had been in the family ever since the marriage of James's grandparents, and her daughter, Tilly.

"Mrs Freyda, Miss," squeaked Gilly, "I is just taking this to Mrs Potter,"

"Actually," James's mum said, "James will take it up." She turned to James. "You haven't seen Granny all day."

James huffed, but took the tray from Gilly and started up the stairs.

"Granny," he called outside her door. There was no answer. With the dread he had come to feel whenever he entered her room alone, he pushed open the door and stepped inside, wrinkling his nose at the deathbed smell that no amount of charms could dispel.

"Granny?" he said again, but quieter. She was asleep. He could hear the heavy rasp of each laboured breath and could see the jerky rise and fall of the bed covers. Putting the tray down on a table at the head of the bed, he watched her face, feeling intrusive as he did so, as though he were invading her privacy and stealing her dignity. Her eyes were closed, but the pain still showed in the drawn face. She never used to have that many wrinkles, surely? He hadn't wanted to look at her properly since he'd come home; he was struck by the weakness in her face, as though her body was just falling away, until all that remained were the glowing chestnut coils. He turned away and looked at the pictures on the wall. There was a framed photograph of his grandparents' wedding. Even in black and white, he could tell that his granny had been pretty. Next to her, his grandpa stood straight and proud. They had a funny taste in robes then, James thought, chuckling at their old-fashioned attire. Next to it was a picture of his parents' wedding, his father beaming, his mother's hair for once lying flat under the veil. There were many pictures of James: James as a gurgling, black-haired baby, James hugging a stuffed dragon, James holding his father's wand, with a mischievous grin on his face, James on his first broom... Above the photographs was a large portrait. James raised his head and met the familiar gaze of the young lady in it. She was staring solemnly at him, her chestnut hair pinned up off her face. As James looked, the young woman blew a raspberry and laughed at his surprised expression. She winked, and he winked back.

There came a strangled moan from the bed. James span spun round. For a second, the papery eyelids flickered, and then a stillness crept over the ravaged face.

"MUM! DAD! MUM!" James yelled. His voice didn't sound right. It rang, high-pitched, above the drumming in his ears.. His parents appeared. James's father stood at the bed, his head bowed. James's mother wrapped an arm round her husband and son, and the three of them stared at the frail figure in the bed, who was now at peace.

"Poor old James," his mother said the next day. "This has been a pretty miserable holiday for you so far.

"S'all right," James said, shrugging.

His father patted his head. "We'll have to see a match or something before the summer is over," he said, before turning to James's grandfather. "Are you sure this is everyone, Father?"

James's grandfather stared blindly at the list for a few moments, blinked, and looked again.

"You've forgotten the Marchbanks," he said.

James's father ran his hand through his hair for the umpteenth time.

"I'll get some tea," James's mother said. "Could you help me, James?"

James followed his mother into the kitchen, where she put the kettle to boil on the aga. Summoning the biscuit tin, she offered one to James, took one herself, leaned on the aga and sighed.

"It's one of the difficulties of being a Potter, James. You've got to observe etiquette at all times, even when someone has died. Especially when someone has died."

"What do you mean?" James asked.

His mother looked at him. "Well, now that your granny has gone, Grandpa and Dad have to make sure everybody is informed who should be informed. Representatives from all the old families will be invited to the funeral. There are sort of rules of politeness that you have to stick to when you come from a family like the Potters."

James thought. It seemed to him very unfair that his father and grandfather had to worry about who to invite to a funeral when they were clearly sad about Granny dying.

"Will the Blacks be invited?" he asked.

"Indeed," his mother said. "They won't come, of course, but we have to maintain a show of politeness."

"Even though the families hate each other?"

"Especially because the families, erm, don't get on. It wouldn't do to show that we don't like each other. Anyway, that's all changing now. With you and Sirius being as close as you are, in future years the two families will be friends. After all, you are the future of each family."

James thought about this. He was the future of the Potter family. He had always known that his family was respected and wealthy, but he had never thought about the time when he would be the head of the household. He imagined himself and Sirius, each as old men, guiding their respective families. He looked up at his mother, who was directing the tea-making with her wand. He didn't want to think about a time when his parents wouldn't be around.

"I don't think the rest of Sirius's family would ever change," he said to her. "Sirius says they're awful. He's been dying to get away."

"Well, maybe we can invite Sirius to stay, after everything,"

"Oh, that's all right," James said, feeling that he had coerced his mother into making the offer. "Sirius is going to Remus's soon."

"Weren't you invited?"

James shifted his position against the hot aga and nodded.

"Yeah, but I said I couldn't go."

James's mother looked at him with a small smile on her face and pulled him into a hug.

"Mu-um!"

"Sorry." She offered him another biscuit. "I suppose you're too grown up to be hugged by your mother."

He grimaced at her. She laughed.

"I think you should go to Remus's, if the Lupins will have you. It'll do you good to have some fun with your friends, and your father and I will have enough to do without worrying about whether you're bored."

"Really?"

"I don't see why not."

James felt like hugging her. Aww.

Once they'd carried the tea things into the sitting room, James's mother was drawn in to help his father and grandfather, so, armed with the biscuit tin, James went up to his room. He looked at the parchment.

Dear Remus,

Mum says I can come, but not for too long. If James isn't coming do we still have to sleep in a tent? James, you were joking about the Forbidden Forest, weren't you?

Peter

_James wasn't joking - it's a marvellous plan_. Sirius's scrawl read.

**Of course James was joking, Peter. Don't worry; we aren't having any sleepovers in the Forbidden Forest. I'm sorry about your grandmother, James.**

_Remus, stop being a spoilsport,_

Feeling very glad that he was allowed to go, James then felt guilty for feeling glad. He started writing before he could further confuse himself.

_**Why would I joke about sleeping in the Forbidden Forest? Of course, you don't have to come, Peter, if you're too scared! Remus, Mum's said that I can come, after all, that is, if your parents are okay with it.**_

_**James**_

......................

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**__**

"It's so nice to see friends of Remus's. You must be James. Remus has told us so much about you."

Mrs Lupin was a kindly-looking woman, whose smiling face was lined around the eyes and mouth, although she couldn't be much older than James's own mother.

"Mu-um," Remus groaned, rolling his eyes at James, who grinned back as he stepped out of the fireplace. It was just as well that he did, for at that moment a whoosh of green flames announced another arrival, and Sirius appeared in the fireplace.

"Hello," he said to Remus's mother, holding out a rather sooty hand. "I'm Sirius Black."

"Pleased to meet you, Sirius," Mrs Lupin said, beaming. "Remus's father is around somewhere." Edmund," she called. "The boys are here."

"Would you like anything to eat?" she asked, turning back to Sirius and James.

They sat down at the small kitchen table, while Mrs Lupin fussed about, stacking the small surface with plates of food.

"She's been baking all morning," Remus told them.

"Well, I know what boys are like," his mother said, setting a steak and kidney pie in front of James.

A door opened, and a man who looked very like Remus entered the room. He was tall, and his grey head brushed the door frame as he passed under it.

"Ah, boys, you must be..."

"Sirius Black,"

"James P-"

"Potter." Mr Lupin smiled to himself. "I used to know your father, James. A very fine man."

James nodded, not knowing what to say.

"Sirius and James both did very well in their exams, Edmund," Mrs Lupin said, as she took a batch of scones out of the oven. "Top of the class in just about everything."

"Remus beat us both in Defence Against the Dark Arts," Sirius said, in between forking food into his mouth.

"So I hear," Mr Lupin said. "It's good that Remus has friends who will encourage him to work hard."

James snorted, and Sirius choked on his mouthful of pie. Remus sniggered.

Mr Lupin grinned and suddenly looked very youthful.

"It's also good that Remus has friends who'll encourage him to have fun."

Peter arrived, swaying somewhat, a little later, having taken the Knight Bus (his mother didn't trust him to Floo on his own). Thus began a very happy few days for the four boys, who explored the surrounding countryside, played Quidditch on the Lupins' battered old brooms, played with the family's pack of dogs and slept outside in a rather worn bed-sit of a tent. Mrs Lupin delighted in providing enough food to feed a small kingdom, which the boys managed to get through. Both she and Mr Lupin seemed very happy to see Remus enjoying himself with the others. When they left, Mrs Lupin gave each of them a fierce hug, and Mr Lupin shook their hands with a solemn smile.

"My regards to your father, James," he added.

"Edmund Lupin," said James's father, when James had passed on the message. "I haven't seen him in eight or nine years. He was on his way to becoming head of my department, when he suddenly took himself and his family off to live in the country. Said he didn't like working at the Ministry. He binds books for a living now."

James's mother shook her head. "Odd, how some people do things out of the blue," she said. "Maybe he wanted to spend more time with his family."

Remus hadn't told them about that. James guessed that the reason for Mr Lupin's sudden departure from the Ministry of Magic was to protect Remus and keep him out of the way. Remus's family had very little money, he knew, and the fact that Mr Lupin had given up a highly paid job for him must make Remus feel very guilty. James felt a surge of frustration that he could do nothing to help his friend.

The funeral was a grand affair. James was surprised at how many people had known and liked his grandmother. He was beginning to see what his mother meant, though. The whole Potter family was on display and he, as its future, felt he had a duty to impress the guests. The day passed slowly. James felt he was treated like a house-elf; he had to offer food round to the hordes of mourners. That was better than his other job, which was being kissed by all the elderly women who'd shown up, most of whom he was somehow related to. His father's comment that in a few years he'd enjoy that level of attention from the opposite sex did not make James feel any better about it. The upside was, however, that after the funeral Sirius was to come and stay.

Sirius arrived, and James found Ketterleigh Castle to be a much more interesting place when he was showing it off to Sirius. He showed him the marble stag at the entrance, which bowed members and guests of the Potter family into the house. They sat on the stairs and watched the Muggle tourists who came to look round the castle, throwing cherry-stones at them to see if they'd notice. All the Muggles walked straight by them, apart from a pink-cheeked girl of about seven, who stared at them and was making a bee-line for them until her mother called 'Hestia! Come away.' James showed Sirius the enchanted portraits the family used to access the wizarding part of the castle, the long, steep banisters that were perfect for sliding down and, of course, the Quidditch pitch. James's father took them to a Quidditch match as promised, and they watched James's favourite team, the Falmouth Falcons, beat the Chudley Cannons by a very convincing 210- 30.

James related to Sirius what his father had said about Remus's father, and how it must make Remus feel. Sirius frowned.

"But there is nothing that we can do."

"I know. It's annoying."

They were sitting in James's bedroom, listlessly flicking through a box of books which James's mother had given them.

"_These were all Granny's. I don't know if you want them at all. They may be useful when you come to your OWLs, although they may be a little outdated."_

The books were mainly on Transfiguration, which James put aside for later. There were a few on Defence Against the Dark Arts, too, and a number of very old Quidditch annuals, which amused James and Sirius greatly; it seemed James's grandmother had been a fan of the Holyhead Harpies.

"Look at this!" Sirius had unearthed a batch of magazines entitled "Beasts of Britain." On the cover of the July issue for 1947, was a picture of a forest at night. Above the treetops, a full moon hung, and between two tree trunks was a wolf. It wasn't really a wolf, though. Emblazoned across the cover was the headline:

_Away with Werewolves!_

They read the article, frowns deepening on their foreheads. The author was arguing that all werewolves on the Ministry of Magic's Werewolf register should be destroyed.

"That's barbaric!" James said. "They're people."

"Not according to this - look."

Sirius pointed to a particular paragraph.

_Until now, the Ministry has shied away from using dynamic and effective measures against these beasts, arguing that, afflicted as they are, they are still members of the human race. This is, however, not the case. Werewolves are dark creatures who actively seek human victims above other prey, thereby demonstrating a complete lack of human instinct, for what kind would turn against their own? Moreover, the werewolf bite only causes lycanthropy in humans, proving that the werewolf seeks to create more monsters like itself. If werewolves were in any way bestowed with human feelings, they would bite only animals, upon which they have no effect, thereby saving mankind from the fate which has befallen them. In fact, their despicable desire to wreak havoc sees the werewolf select his victim before the full moon arrives, giving him his wolfish form. It is only the shape the werewolf takes which is governed by the moon; its mind is continually one of ungovernable malice. The continued presence of werewolves in our society, therefore, merely serves to augment their numbers. The disposal of these fiends is necessary. It cannot be called inhumane; it is a crime against humanity to allow them to live._

James finished the article with a scowl on his face. "What piece of slime wrote that?"

Sirius checked the magazine. "Some berk called Edwin Umbridge."

"It's a load of rubbish," fumed James. "Saying werewolves want to bite people. I'd say _he's_ devoid of 'human feelings'."

"Nasty, isn't it," Sirius said. His eyes flicked over the page again and stopped on a certain line. "That's interesting, though."

"What?" James read the line again.

'_...the werewolf bite only causes lycanthropy in humans...'_

"Humans can't be around werewolves, but animals can," Sirius said.

"What are you getting at?" James asked, and then he had a flash of inspiration. "Oh!"

He searched through the pile of Transfiguration books, until he found 'The Animal Without: A study of Animagi'. He held it up.

"Exactly," said Sirius.


	7. Visions and Revisions

The summer had renewed James's affections for his lifestyle at home, yet he had also missed Hogwarts: the dorm, his four-poster, the Gryffindor common room…he would even be pleased to see Professor McGonagall when he got back to school. He'd be even happier to see Snape; he'd just stocked up on dungbombs. There were no twinges of doubt or panic when James boarded the Hogwarts Express to start his second year. Clutching his beloved broomstick, he had to try not to look too eager about leaving his parents. Before long, the journey began, and James settled down in a compartment with Remus, Sirius and Peter.

It was only when they alighted at the Hogsmeade Station did James get a shock. He waved at Hagrid, who was calling the tiny first-years to him. James grinned at them.

"We never looked that titchy, did we?" he asked.

"Peter still does," Sirius said, as the four of them turned to the carriages that took the returning students to the school.

James glanced at the nearest carriage, gave a start, and stared at it. His hand dropped to his wand in his pocket.

"James, what's wrong?"

"What _is _that?" James asked in a hoarse voice.

'That' was just about the most gruesome thing he'd ever seen. It was, he supposed, a horse. Except it was like no horse that James had ever come across. Large, bony wings sprouted from its withers, and the beast seemed to have no flesh or skin at all. It was skeletal and decayed. As he stared, the nearest one turned its face to him. The eye socket was empty, but the creature could sense him, he was sure. He felt sick.

"Earth to James! Are you coming or not?" Sirius had a hand on a carriage door. He was standing inches away from the skeletal monster. James pulled himself together. If Sirius could go near it, then he could. He got in the carriage, trying not to look at the thing as he went past it, and slamming the door shut with relief.

"Why do you think they've got those things pulling the carriages now?" he asked the others.

"What?" asked Peter.

Sirius frowned. "There's nothing pulling the carriages. Never has been."

"Yes, there is!" said James. "You were standing right by it, Sirius."

Sirius laughed. "Very funny, James. There was nothing there."

"I saw it," James insisted. "It was a massive horse. Well, it was just a skeleton of a horse, really. And it had wings."

"What did you eat on the train?" asked Peter. "Something must have disagreed with you."

"Something dodgy in the Cauldron Cakes," Sirius said, grinning.

James ran his hand through his hair. He wasn't going mad; he _had_ seen it, hadn't he?

"It's all right, James. You must have seen a Thestral." Remus reaffirmed James's sanity.

"Thank Merlin for that," James said. "What's a Thestral?"

"It's a winged, skeletal horse, like you said," Remus said. "Except that you can only see one if you've seen someone die."

"Eurgh," said Peter.

"Wicked," said Sirius. "And you can see them?"

James remembered that evening in his grandmother's room. "Yeah."

"I didn't know they pulled the Hogwarts carriages," Remus said.

"How did you know what they are, anyway?" Peter asked.

"I re-"

"-read it in a book," chorused James and Sirius.

Remus grinned and settled himself into the padded seat with a happy sigh. "And if I hadn't, we'd be taking James to Madam Pomfrey to have his head examined."

"Not that that wouldn't be a good idea, anyway," Sirius said.

James hit Sirius, feeling hugely happy to be back as he did so.

The Sorting passed without incident; the four of them happily 'booed' anyone who joined Slytherin house and applauded the new Gryffindors, who included Gideon Prewett's little brother, Fabian. Between his usual reminders that the Forbidden Forest was strictly out of bounds, and that magic was prohibited in the corridors, Dumbledore also told the students that they were not to go near the Whomping Willow. At that, the whole school turned to the Hufflepuff table, where Davy Gudgeon (thankfully, with both eyes intact) was seated, blushing down at the tablecloth.

Once they got him alone, James and Sirius told Peter of their plan. He looked unsure, but was, as usual, won over by the other two's enthusiasm. They decided not to tell Remus. They thought that it would take them a month or two to become Animagi, and they wanted to surprise him. Becoming an Animagus, Sirius and James read, was extremely difficult (it didn't deter them in the slightest) and illegal for wizards who were not of age to attempt (a positive inducement). Even adult wizards had to register themselves on a list of Animagi kept by the Ministry. James and Sirius felt such petty rules to be beneath them. They didn't tell Peter that they were breaking the law and felt that it was another reason why Remus shouldn't know what they were doing until they had accomplished it, as he might try to stop them.

When he wasn't doing lessons or poring over advanced Transfiguration books, James had another consuming pastime. Now that they were in their second year, they were allowed to bring their brooms to school and could try out for the house Quidditch team.

A seventh-year called Jeremy Meadowes was the new Captain, taking over from Rachel Estrey, who'd left last year, vacating a Chaser spot. Meadowes was the Gryffindor Keeper, and he was determined to raise Gryffindor from the depths of defeat into which they had descended over the last few years. Gideon Prewett, now in his fifth year, was a Chaser, along with Graham Bell, of the same year. Dorcas Wood, a tall, thickset seventh-year, was the team's one remaining Beater.

There was a large crowd on the morning of the tryouts. James, Sirius and Frank walked down together, broomsticks in hand. As it was a sunny day, Lily and Alice, Remus and Peter went with them to watch. Lily was carrying a thick book 'just in case'.

James, Sirius and Frank joined the group of hopefuls, who were shuffling and talking at the foot of the goalposts. All were clutching their brooms tightly. James scanned the opposition: a Nimbus 1001, not bad; an out-of-date Cleansweep, poor; an ancient Bluebottle, laughable. He beamed down at his Cloudduster. They didn't have a chance. The members of the Gryffindor team walked out together from the changing rooms. Gideon winked at James and Sirius as he passed. Meadowes scowled at the assembled crowd, but Dorcas Wood shot them a reassuring smile as she followed her captain onto the pitch.

Meadowes was looking for a Chaser, a Beater, and a Seeker, and he split them up according to which position they wanted to play. James was taken to the end of the pitch with the rest of the Chasers, while Sirius went with the large crowd of prospective Beaters, and Frank with the few who fancied themselves as Seekers. The exercises were simple. The Seekers had to catch the small training Snitches, the Chasers had to get the Quaffle past Meadowes and into the goal, and the Beaters had to direct the Bludgers as accurately as possible towards the others under Dorcas's direction. James had watched Gideon and Graham carefully in matches and practices last year and had memorised some of their formations. He flew with them well, passing the ball back and fourth seamlessly. After forty-five minutes, he reckoned he'd got the position. Meadowes had only managed to stop about half of his goals, whereas some of the others hadn't even scored at all.

Feeling pretty pleased with himself, he flew down to join the others.

"How do you think it went?" asked Frank. James noticed that he was fingering one of the training snitches.

"Good," James said. "You?"

"Yeah, all right," Frank said. "I got the Snitch quite quickly, of course; these training ones aren't the same, but…"

"What about you?" James asked Sirius.

Sirius shrugged. "I don't know," he said. "Defoe's really good, and he can aim. Bet he'll get it."

James clapped him on the back in sympathy, and they made their way to where Remus, Peter, Lily, and Alice were sitting. Remus and Lily were deep in discussion over Lily's book, which Remus seemed to have read, as well; apparently, they hadn't watched much of the try-out.

"Do you have to look as though you're about to knock yourself out all the time, Frank?" Alice asked. "I don't like it when you fly towards the ground like that."

Frank chortled. "Sorry, Alice; Seekers have to be able to dive."

A little later, Meadowes called all the fliers back onto the pitch.

"Thanks for trying out, everybody," he said. "Unfortunately, we want to win this year, so not all of you can be on the team."

Dorcas Wood elbowed him. "What Jeremy means," she said, "is that it was a very hard decision, but, of course, there aren't enough places for everybody."

Meadowes coughed. "Yes. Anyway, here are the new members of the team. Seeker: Longbottom, Beater: Defoe, Chaser: Potter."

James was torn between dancing up and down in delight at getting on the team and commiserating with Sirius.

"Well done," Sirius said to him and Frank.

James and Frank were saying 'Bad luck,' when Dorcas Wood strode over.

"Hey, Black, isn't it?"

Sirius nodded.

"You did well out there. Once you're a bit bigger, you'll be a decent Beater." She headed off towards the changing rooms.

Sirius tried to look offended. "A bit bigger," he said, scowling at Dorcas's departing figure. "Just because she's practically a giantess."

But James thought that Sirius actually looked rather pleased.

"When are you next, er, visiting your mum?" Sirius asked Remus later that evening.

"In a week," Remus said, leafing through his Potions notes. "Does anyone know how many lacewings you need if the bloodmoss wasn't gathered at full moon?"

"Three ounces," said Sirius. "So, where do you go, anyway?"

Remus looked over his shoulder. The common room was buzzing with voices and laughter. Over by the fire, Frank had just lost his eyebrows to a game of Exploding Snap. Alice was inspecting the damage, while Lily was clutching her sides, her face pink.

"There's a place in Hogsmeade. It's safe."

"Cool," James said. "I like Hogsmeade. Zonko's is fantastic. Dad used to take me there if I was really good."

"Well, I don't get much time for shopping," Remus said, running his finger down a list of potion ingredients.

"Of course, once I'd been to Zonko's I wasn't good for ages, because I was busy using everything I'd bought," James went on.

"So, what - do you just walk down to Hogsmeade?" Sirius asked, leaning over Remus's table, his eyes alight with interest.

Remus lowered his parchment. "Are you going to let me do this?" He looked at his pile of homework.

"Nope," Sirius said. "Come on, Remus. I want to know."

Remus closed his textbook, marking his place with his finger.

"It's not that exciting. Madam Pomfrey takes me down a tunnel to a hut in Hogsmeade. Afterwards, she comes and takes me back to school. Happy?"

"No," said James, the delights of Zonko's forgotten. "Does the tunnel start at Hogwarts?"

"Yes, in the grounds."

"Where?" asked Peter.

"Beneath the Whomping Willow." Remus reopened his book and tried to look interested in it. James took it out of his hands and put it on the table.

"How do you get through? I can't see old Pomfrey dodging the branches."

Remus smiled briefly at the image.

"No, the Willow stops for a few seconds if you press the knot on the trunk with a stick."

Sirius's draw dropped.

"You mean, you knew! You sat there while we tried to touch it, and you knew how to get past all along."

Remus shot him a pained look. Sirius hadn't troubled to keep his voice down.

"Of course I did," he hissed. "What else would I have done?"

"So, you're saying that there's a secret tunnel, that no one knows how to get into, that leads to a hut in Hogsmeade," James said.

Remus looked worried.

"Ye-es."

"Shall we explore it tonight, then?"

"No." The panic was evident even in Remus's whisper. "I don't want to go there."

"I don't think we should," Peter agreed. Remus shot him a grateful look.

Sirius caught James's eye for a fleeting second.

"No, no, whatever you say," he said.

James strained his ears. Peter's heavy breathing was easy to make out. So was Frank's light snoring. With Remus, it was harder to tell. Lighting his wand, he pulled his parchment and a quill from the pocket of his jeans. He hadn't bothered undressing tonight. He tapped the parchment.

**_Do you think he's asleep?_** He wrote. Sirius's bed was between his and Remus's.

**I think so. Can't hear anything**, came the instant reply. They'd just have to be silent, then. He grabbed his thick wool cloak and his I nvisibility Cloak from under his pillow and slid out of bed.

At the portrait hole, James pulled the cloak over him and Sirius, and, together, they tiptoed out of the castle and down to the Whomping Willow.

"Right, can you see a stick?"

"No. Can you?"

Sirius cast a baleful look at the thrashing Whomping Willow. "It's going to have to be a really long one."

Finally, they found a long, dead branch. James crouched down on the soggy grass and leant as close to the tree as he could.

"See if you can find the knot," he told Sirius.

Sirius directed his wand-light towards the base of the tree. James made out the knot and tried to touch it with the branch. After a few attempts, the tree froze.

"Wow," Sirius said, gazing at the motionless branches, as though it was unusual to see a tree that didn't swing its branches like a prize boxer.

"Quick," James called, and the two of them ran to the trunk.

"Where's the tunnel?" James asked, looking about.

"There!" said Sirius, pointing to a gap between the roots. They slipped through, into a low, black, earthy space. The light from their wands illuminated only a few feet in front of them. The darkness seemed to eat the light. They were no longer under the Invisibility Cloak, but they walked close together, anyway, their backs hunched. The tunnel began to rise, and James and Sirius were panting at the steep incline when the path ahead twisted sharply. Not far off, the tunnel wasn't as dark as it had been. As they approached, they realised that it was an opening.

James scrambled out of the hole and looked about him. He passed his wand over the boarded up windows, the scratched walls, the savaged furniture, and the stains on the floorboards.

"Is that blood?" he asked.

Beside him, Sirius gulped. "I think it is, yeah."

Although neither of them particularly wanted to now, they explored the rest of the hut. Most of the rooms were filled with disorderly piles of clothes, drapes, and furniture. Sirius jumped when James started coughing loudly as the dust from them got up his nose and into his lungs. In a slightly tidier room, Sirius grimaced when they found a large four-poster bed.

"Imagine having to sleep here."

"I thought you wanted to sleep in the forest," James said

Sirius stuck his tongue out. "You know what I mean."

James remembered the blood stains downstairs and made a metal note to research what happened during a werewolf transformation.

"I don't suppose that's the part that bothers Remus."

They climbed down the rickety stairs again and, this time, headed for the front door, if it could be called that. The hut wasn't the sort of place to have a front door. It was locked.

" _Alohamora_ ," Sirius said, but the door wouldn't budge.

James was examining the boarded windows. One of the planks of wood was slightly loose. He pulled it back and squinted out of the crack. They were at one end of the village, he saw. There were houses a little way off, at the bottom of the hill. Just then, he heard voices. He beckoned Sirius over.

"Here! Roger, come back."

A man was weaving his way up the hill. A second man, the one who had shouted, was halfway up, and seemed unwilling to come closer.

"Whassat?" shouted Roger, who was swaying. His voice was slurred. "You scared?"

"Aye," called his friend. "They say this place is haunted. I've heard them ghosts myself, and they was real all right. Nothing's going to get me near the Shrieking Shack, and I'd advise you to stay clear, if you value your head."

Roger swore and laughed. "You didn't believe that rubbish down the 'Hog's Head,' did you?"

"Awooo!" howled Sirius.

Roger's companion yelled and scarpered. Roger, still swaying, cast wide eyes at the hut. Sirius howled again, and the man stumbled and set off down the hill, while James and Sirius doubled up on the dirty, dusty floorboards, their laughter echoing through the little building and down the hillside.

"Potter, that wasn't GOOD enough," roared Jeremy Meadowes. "Prewett was open, and you missed him."

James wiped a grimy hand over his glasses, leaving them dirtier than they had been.

"Sorry," he grunted.

Meadowes, whose robes were splattered with mud, lobbed the Quaffle back to him. The ball nearly slipped out of James's hands, but he made a grab and clutched it to him, breathing hard.

"Don't be sorry, be better," Meadowes said. He flew to his place, in front of the middle goal post.

"Don't worry," Graham said to James as the Chasers resumed their places. "He's just nervous about Saturday."

James's stomach lurched. Meadowes wasn't the only one nervous about their first match, although he wasn't about to admit it. Quidditch was the most important thing to him at the moment, and he had to perform well. He felt sick at the thought of letting his teammates down.

Meadowes turned on Graham. "I'm only nervous about Saturday because the Slytherins will wipe the floor with us unless we start playing like a Gryffindor Quidditch team rather than a load of Hufflepuff first-years. LONGBOTTOM!"

Meadowes had to roll off his broom to avoid Frank, who had just sped past. Frank pulled up and shook the hair out of his face.

"Sorry, Jeremy."

"Well, why did you stop? You NEVER stop without the Snitch."

Frank hung his head.

"Stop it." Dorcas Wood flew over towards the goals, her Beater's bat raised. "Jeremy, they're only second-years. We've been practising for hours, and they're tired. They are good fliers; you shouting at them will not make them any better."

It was hard to tell under the mud, but James thought that Meadowes might have turned rather red.

"I'm the Captain, Wood, in case you hadn't noticed. Get back." He spat out the word 'Wood', although he usually called her by her first name.

Dorcas didn't flinch.

"Being the Captain doesn't stop you being an idiot, Meadowes." She stressed his surname ominously.

Meadowes definitely was red in the face. He looked as though he were about to reply, but changed his mind, perhaps because Dorcas's bat was still raised.

"Longbottom, Wood, back to positions. We'll do this until we get it right."

When James finally landed, pins and needles shot up his legs, and he nearly crumpled.

"Don't worry," Dorcas said, as she landed beside him. "This term's training is the worst part of the year. It's just the mud that makes it miserable, really. That and our Captain."

James had noticed the mud. Every time he went to or from the pitch, he was caked up past his ankles in mud. As the practice went on, the Quaffle would become more and more slippery with gloopy mud, which transferred itself to his hands and from them to his broom handle, making it impossible to grip.

"That is, unless you mind the cold," Graham Bell put in, clapping James on the back, leaving muddy handprints on his robes. "Because next term it'll get freezing."

"It's when your hands actually freeze onto your broom handle - that's the annoying part," said Gideon Prewett, getting off his broom with a groan.

"Yes, well, it's better than being too hot, anyway," said Meadowes, who seemed determined to be in a foul mood. "If the sun's too bright, you can't see a damn thing."

James grinned. He loved Quidditch, even if he was cold and wet and aching. His legs were so stiff that he could barely walk. He got back on his broom and flew up to his dormitory window. Sirius was sitting on his bed. James thumped on the glass, his tired brain registering faint amusement as Sirius started and looked about him, before coming to the window.

"Are the stairs not good enough for you?" he asked, as he opened the window and shivered at the blast of cold air.

"Not when I can't walk up them," James said, flying to his bed and dropping down onto it. His soft pillows and dry cover felt so good.

"Anyhow, James, I was doing the concentrating thing that the Burnaby book was on about."

James had no idea what Sirius meant.

"You know, you have to focus really hard on the spells, and then you should see the animal."

"Oh. That." James tried to summon his enthusiasm.

"Yes, that!" Sirius was practically bouncing up and down.

The still-working part of James's brain knew that he should be very interested in what Sirius was about to say, and that part of him was. But the rest of him was being swamped by the sensations of being warm and lying down and not being shouted at by a mud-covered madman.

Sirius was still bouncing. It was quite distracting, really.

"I saw it! I saw the animal."

"That's nice," James said, closing his eyes.

Sirius growled. "Aren't you going to ask me what it was?"

"No," James muttered into his pillow. With that, he rolled over and, still fully clothed and hugging his broomstick to his chest, he fell asleep.


	8. When the Battle's Lost and Won

James woke up late the next morning. He found himself still in his Quidditch robes, although someone had removed his glasses. He groped for them at his bedside table and was relieved when he found them. Sirius had been known to hide them as part of an amusing joke. When James got up, his legs felt a bit wobbly, and his arms ached a lot. He made his way to the bathroom and snorted at his reflection. His face was smeared with mud, and his hair stuck up in stiff spikes.

"I don't see what's funny about your appearance," the mirror said, tutting.

James laughed again, showered, changed, and was just coming downstairs when he met Sirius, Remus and Peter walking up.

"You missed breakfast," Peter said.

"We were just about to wake you if you hadn't got up," said Sirius. "I thought you were going to lie there snoring all day."

"Well, we brought you something to eat. You haven't got time for breakfast, or you'll be late for Transfiguration," Remus said.

"Not that I need to go," James said, yawning and grabbing a piece of toast from the pile that Sirius was carrying and stuffing it into his mouth. "We're still on moles. S'easy."

"Didn't catch a word of that," said Remus. "I don't speak 'toast', but I think McGonagall would be pretty displeased if you didn't turn up."

"Pretty displeased? She'd skin you," Peter said.

James swallowed his mouthful. "Couldn't you say I'm ill?" Then, he remembered the two feet of parchment McGonagall had asked for and grimaced. "Actually, I've got a good reason not to go. I haven't done her homework."

"We know," said Sirius, collecting his school bag and pulling a scroll of parchment from it. He handed it to James, who looked down to see his own name and handwriting at the top.

"Remus found this brilliant charm so that you can write in someone else's handwriting."

James looked at his homework. "Thank you," he said, feeling rather odd. He wished the three of them weren't looking at him like that.

"Hang on, there's something in here." A piece of paper had fallen out of the scroll and dropped to the floor. As he bent to collect it, James saw that Sirius, Remus, and Peter were grinning at each other. He turned the paper over.

"You gits!"

It was a photo of himself, lying on his bed, cuddling his broom. His photo self was fast asleep. As James looked, the James in the picture turned over, holding his broomstick tighter with one hand, and raised the other to his mouth. He began to suck his thumb.

The other three were laughing loudly.

"I do not suck my thumb. You've tampered with this."

"The camera never lies, James," Sirius said, sniggering.

James set fire to the offending photograph.

Peter shook his head. "Sorry, James. No good. We have copies."

Remus checked his watch. "Come on, or we'll all be late."

Muttering darkly between mouthfuls of toast, James grabbed his bag and followed his friends out of the portrait hole.

In History of Magic, later that day, James was just about to fall asleep when a note was pushed under his nose, which had been inching nearer and nearer the table.

**_Aren't you going to ask me what it is?_**

_What's what, Sirius?_

**_What my _animal _is, you prune._**

James sat up a bit straighter. He'd forgotten about that.

_Did you really see an animal?_

**_Yup._**

James glanced sideways at Sirius, who wore an expression of bored stupor. A certain tension around his mouth showed James that his best friend was trying not to smirk.

_Go on, then. What did you see?_

**_Well, I started off doing the breathing that it recommends to do in the Burnaby book. Then, I held all the spells in my mind and just kept concentrating on them really hard, and then-_**

James grabbed the paper from Sirius.

_Get on with it._

**_Fine! I saw a black dog._**

James had a vision of the yapping ball of fur which always appeared at the heels of his Great-aunt Lucinda and snorted. Most of the class were too asleep to notice. Peter lifted his head from his arms, regarded them sleepily, and let his head drop once more.

**_What's so funny?_**

_What type of dog was it then? A poodle?_

**_It was a big dog, not a poodle._**

_Poodles can be big.._

**_No, they can't._**

_Yes, they can._

**_Can't._**

_Can._

**_Can't._**

_Can. I've seen one._

**_Sure it hadn't been on the wrong end of an engorgement hex?_**

_It was just a large poodle._

**_Aw, was Jamsie scared of the nasty big poodle?_**

_Oh, shut up._

**_You know, I'm actually not making any noise._**

_Your quill is scratching the parchment._

**_So's yours. Anyway, we're getting away from the subject in question, which is my brilliance at Transfiguration. I heard that._**

_So, it was a dog. What was it like?_

**_Big and black._**

_Yes, we'd got that far._

**_Just because _you _haven't seen _your** **_animal._**

_Bet I could if I tried._

**_Go on, then._**

_What? Now?_

**_Binns won't notice._**

_Fine._

James regulated his breathing, slowing it like the book had described. He closed his eyes. He'd show Sirius. He brought the spells into his mind. They were useless until he knew what to change into, but focusing on them was meant to bring his animal to him. He waited.

A shadowy shape began to move towards him. James strained his mind to see what it was, but he just couldn't make it out; it was too blurry, as though he was looking at it without his glasses. The shadowy white shape came closer. He'd be able to see properly it soon. The shape stopped. It seemed to be bowing to him. Then, it vanished.

"James. James! Wake up."

James opened his eyes. Sirius was shaking him, with Remus and Peter looking on. The rest of the class was filing out of the room.

"Did you have, er, any good dreams?" Sirius asked, nudging him.

James shook his head. "Nothing clear."

"- And it's Potter, looking very good for Gryffindor...he's past the opposition; it's Potter for Gryffindor against the Slytherin Seeker. They're both new players this year... Potter shoots, the Keeper dives, he's got - no! It's in - Potter scores! Ten nil to Gryffindor, and that's a very good start for James Potter..."

The first Quidditch match was a dream. James scored seven goals, Frank caught the Snitch, and Slytherin were annihilated. Better still, the Slytherin Keeper was none other than -

"You should have seen Snape's face when I got that last goal," James said to Sirius, Remus and Peter at supper that evening. "He was so cross! It was brilliant."

"Well, what does he expect? If he didn't want to be beaten he shouldn't have played," Sirius said, sneering. "I think even Peter would make a better Keeper than him."

"You were fantastic, James," Peter said, watching James spoon a third helping of macaroni cheese onto his plate. "Your goals were the best."

"Don't be daft, Peter," said James. "Didn't you see Gideon get the Quaffle in the third ring while he was ducking the Bludger? That was magnificent. Wish I could do that."

"I bet you could, James," Peter said, looking on in fascination as James chewed a mouthful of food. "I bet you could if you tried."

When he wasn't playing Quidditch, James worked his way through 'The Animal Without: A Study of Animagi' with Sirius. They used the handwriting charm which Remus had found to forge McGonagall's signature and got as many books as they could from the Restricted Section of the library. It was interesting, especially when James thought of really becoming an animal. He couldn't wait. He still didn't know what animal he'd be. The book said that the wizard couldn't chose the animal he transformed into; a wizard's Animagus form reflected part of the person's character, although James couldn't see anything warm, fluffy or feline about Professor McGonagall. James hoped that he turned into something good. It must be annoying to go through all the work only to be able to change into a flobberworm or something. It became clear, though, as the Christmas holidays came and went, that neither James, Sirius nor Peter were going to become any kind of animal any time in the near future, despite Sirius being able to see the big, black dog. Peter was labouring over the basic concepts of the transformation, whereas James and Sirius knew what they had to do, but had no idea how to do it. They crammed the evenings with extra reading, studied the books left by James's grandmother and snuck into the library late at night under the Invisibility Cloak.

"Peter, what are you doing?" Remus asked.

They were sitting at the tables in the common room. Remus was writing a long and boring essay for History of Magic, James and Sirius were going over the notes they'd made the night before (and which they'd have to simplify and explain to Peter later), while Peter was reading a book on simple Transfiguration.

Peter squeaked. "Nothing." His ears went pink.

James and Sirius stiffened and looked up. Remus was peering over Peter's shoulder.

"'Triumph at Transfiguration'," Remus read. He looked blank. "We don't have anything from McGonagall."

"She gave Peter extra homework last week," James said, tipping his chair back, and shooting Peter a meaningful glance.

"Oh." Remus said.

The three of them still didn't want to tell Remus what they were doing, even though it did mean they had to lie to him or avoid him from time to time. James and Sirius felt sure that Remus would try to dissuade them.

"Remus," Lily Evans came up to their table. "Remus, my mum sent 'The Hobbit' – I still can't believe you haven't read it – for you to borrow; that is, if you're still interested."

James glanced at the square parcel Lily held in her hand.

"Books," he mouthed at the others. While Remus was talking to Lily, the other three gathered up their things and hurried out of the portrait hole, heading for the secret passage behind Gregory the Smarmy which they had turned into their private classroom. Sirius pulled out a sheaf of notes on the primary spells that had to be mastered and started explaining them to Peter. James tried to concentrate on his animal. He was the best at Transfiguration; he would _not _let Sirius get ahead of him. However, nearly an hour later, nothing had been achieved.

"The bloody thing won't come into focus," James yelled, throwing his book against the wall.

Peter sighed. "At least you can see something, James. I can't see anything at all. I don't think I'll ever become an Animagus." Peter's hands were covered in ink, as were his cheeks and mouth. About him lay scrolls and scrolls of parchment, all covered in diagrams and scrawls.

"Yes, you will," said Sirius, who was as inky as Peter, and who had been working with a grim determination. "We all will. Don't worry; it took me a while to see the dog."

James began to laugh.

"Sirius...the dog!"

"James, maybe you've had enough for one night."

"No, Sirius. The _dog _star. And you can see a dog."

Sirius grinned. "He's Black, as well."

Peter frowned. "So, is the animal like your name? Peter Pettigrew doesn't mean any animal at all."

"No, it's just a coincidence," James said. Still, it annoyed him that Sirius had found an animal that suited him so well, whereas he, Jams, only had a blur.

Peter picked up the nearest pile of notes and flicked through them despondently. "Can't we just transfigure each other into animals? That'd be a bit easier."

"That'd be a lot easier, but it wouldn't work," James said. "Humans who have been transfigured into the _shape _of an animal are still essentially human. Becoming an Animagus actually changes your genetic make-up. That's why it's so difficult. You really become another animal. A werewolf could bite a transfigured human, and he'd become a werewolf. Only Animagi are immune like other animals."

Peter and Sirius gawped at James.

"I think you've been reading too much, mate," Sirius said. "You're beginning to sound like Remus."

Finally, they called it a night, and the three of them huddled beneath the Cloak in order to return to Gryffindor tower. It was long after the students were meant to be in bed. They crept along a dark passageway that served as a short-cut and emerged from behind a tapestry.

"Who's there?"

All three of them jumped at the voice which rang out against the stillness of the corridor. James could make out a large figure in the shadowy doorway of a classroom. Whoever it was must have seen the tapestry slide back into place.

"I know there's someone there."

The voice was loud and deep, but it wasn't a teacher. A patrolling prefect, maybe.

"Ted, there's nothing there."

A girl's voice this time. James had barely time to register the nervous tone, before he felt Sirius shift beside him.

"Andromeda?" Sirius called and pulled off the Cloak.

A wand lit up, and James felt very exposed. It wasn't one big figure, he saw; it was two people standing very close together

"Sirius!" Squinting against the light, James recognised Sirius's cousin, a Ravenclaw in her final year. She was clinging to the arm of a tall boy. James's heart sank as he made out Ted Tonks, Beater on the Hufflepuff Quidditch team and Head Boy.

Andromeda seemed to have recovered herself. She let go of Ted's arm and took a step forward.

"Sirius," she hissed. "What in Merlin's name are you doing out here at this time of night?"

Sirius grinned at her. "I could say the same for you."

Ted grinned back. "He's got us there, Andie."

"Andie!" Sirius appeared to be enjoying himself, unlike Peter, who had shuffled behind James. "Never heard you called that before. Your special name, is it?"

Andromeda shot Sirius a venomous look, and James remembered that this was Bellatrix's sister.

"Oh, shut up," she said, sounding exasperated and embarrassed and very much nicer than Bellatrix. "Ted's Head Boy; he's got every right to be out here. He could give you detention for a week, if he wanted."

"Actually," Sirius said, "I think he'd find that we've got a very full diary."

"We're pretty much booked up, when it comes to detention," James said.

"So I've heard," Andromeda said. She folded her arms and tried to look disapproving, but her lips were twitching.

Beside her, Ted was grinning at them. "We'll give the detentions a miss then, shall we?" he said, nodding at James. "Otherwise, you wouldn't have time for training, and Meadowes would beat me to death with his broomstick."

"Not if it endangered his broom, he wouldn't," James said.

Ted laughed. "That's true. Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff final, you reckon?"

"Ted," Andromeda elbowed him. "This is not the time to discuss Quidditch. Besides, Ravenclaw might win the cup this year."

Sirius snorted; James shook his head in disbelief. Ted patted her on the back and rolled his eyes at James, Sirius and Peter. "And they say that Ravenclaws are meant to be clever."

Andromeda sniffed. "Right, off to bed, you lot."

When they returned, Remus was alone in the common room. He was hunched over his essay, but his quill wasn't moving. The book Lily Evans had lent him lay on the table.

"Hi, Remus," said Sirius, clapping Remus on the back. "How come you're still down here?"

Remus turned around. "I was wondering whether or not to send out a search party for you three."

James laughed. "Don't worry, you can trust us not to get lost."

Sirius nudged Peter, and Peter yawned loudly.

"It's pretty late, better get to bed. Don't work too hard, Remus."

James picked up Remus's essay.

"I'll finish this for you, if you like," he said. "You look tired."

Remus shook his head and remained in the common room while the others went up to bed. James didn't see him come up.

The Easter holidays fast approached. Peter and Remus went home. To his delight, James's mother had invited Sirius over to Ketterleigh Castle.

After a raucous journey back to London, Sirius and James said goodbye to Remus and Peter, before being driven to Ketterleigh Castle by James's father. Mr Potter parked the car alongside the tall coach-company buses in the National Trust car park on the Ketterleigh estate.

"Watch the car," James told Sirius. James never tired of seeing his father's car, which had appeared so clean and smart when they got into it in London, fade and shift, until it looked like an abandoned old banger. Mr Potter patted his car lovingly.

"The Muggles always mean to get it taken to the scrapyard, but it keeps slipping their minds." He winked at James and Sirius. The three of them made their way down the drive and past the ticket office. The man sitting there nodded at them as they walked by, but then looked puzzled, as though he couldn't remember why he had. At the door, Mr Potter placed his hand upon the head of the marble stag, which stood before the entrance of the castle. The stag bowed, and James's father walked through. It was how the wizarding folk gained access to the parts of the castle Muggles couldn't see. When it was James's turn, however, he stared at the stag.

"What's wrong?" Sirius asked.

"I'm not sure," said James. The sight of the white stag had made him start with recognition. He wondered.... As soon as he got to his room, he closed his eyes and concentrated. Almost at once, the white shape came into view. James thought of the stag, and immediately the shape became clearer. He was right. It was a stag. The animal bowed its head. James opened his eyes and grinned.

The two boys spent a glorious fortnight exploring, flying and working on becoming Animagi. All too soon, they were back at school. Like they had done last year, the fifth- and seventh-formers began to look pressurised. The Gryffindor Quidditch players, having beaten Ravenclaw, were also training hard for the Quidditch final. Jeremy Meadowes seemed to take Quidditch more seriously than his NEWTs, whereas Dorcas Wood, another seventh-year, was the last to leave the common room every night, as she fitted her revision around practices. Gideon and Graham were both taking their OWLs and shouted out the twelve uses of dragon's blood, or the ingredients of a Befuddlement Draught, as they threw the Quaffle to one another.

James and Sirius sat in the Trophy Room; they were used to spending Saturday nights in detention, whether in the Forbidden Forest, Professor Whall's dungeon, Professor Asch's cold classroom, or under the frosty glare of Professor McGonagall. Remus and Peter were not always present at these detentions, but James and Sirius's obligation to perform menial tasks all over the school had become part of their weekly routine. This time they were there because they had seen fit to furnish every chair in the Great Hall with Whoppee Cushions.

"That new range that your Dad sent you for your birthday was amazing," said Sirius, who was expertly polishing a goblet.

"I don't think even he expected me to use them all at once," James said, grinning at his reflection in a silver plate, before pushing it aside and picking up the Quidditch Cup. He'd become quite fond of polishing it by now.

"Ah, McGonagall's face when she sat down." Sirius wiped his eye with his cleaning cloth.

James grinned. "It's a pity that Professor Asch realised what was going on and checked his chair. I wanted him to sit on his."

"Which one was that?"

"The one that sounded like an orang-utan."

"Oh, yeah." Sirius picked up a silver shield. "Still, at least Dumbledore didn't realise."

"I think he might have," James said. "He sat down after McGonagall, remember?"

Sirius chuckled. "Loopy, he is."

James looked down at the now-familiar names on the Quidditch cup. It had been ages since Gryffindor had won, back when they were captained by Molly Prewett, Keeper.

'Six days, fourteen hours and seventeen minutes,' he thought.

"- Prewett's flying well with the Quaffle, he passes to Bell, nice catch, Bell dodges McCarthy's Bludger, back to Prewett. Prewett – Potter – Bell – Potter. The Gryffindor Chasers are dominating the field, but can they score? Ah, Potter's at the post – lovely position, it's – no – he's defeated by Honeyduke. The Hufflepuff Keeper is in her last Quidditch final; she will be sorely missed by Hufflepuff next year.

"Abbott has the Quaffle, passes to Diggory, to – ouch! Well-aimed Bludger by Wood, and Gryffindor are in possession again. Potter – Bell – Prewett – Bell – Potter, passes to Prewett, he shoots...yes! That's a beautiful goal by Prewett; Honeyduke never had a chance.

"Diggory's in possession of the Quaffle. Bell tries to intercept...was that a bit of cobbing? Yes, penalty to Huflepuff. Diggory faces the Keeper. It's a hard shot – Meadowes dives and – ooh! Misses it by a fingernail. The score is 20 all.

"Potter has the Quaffle, Abbott can't get near – that was a hard Bludger by Defoe. Potter is past Diggory – he's ducked the Bludger, can he – Bell's there for back-up, but Potter doesn't need him – Potter SCORES! Gryffindor now in the lead in the fight for the Quidditch cup, and new boy Potter is on wings.

James was on wings. He could hear the commentary, he could hear the roar of the crowd, but, most of all, he could hear the sound of the Quaffle whizzing through the air as it was thrown to Giles Grabham, a Hufflepuff Chaser. Feeling about as good as he ever had done, he sped after it.

"Hufflepuff in possession. Grabham – Diggory – Abbott - Abbott back to Diggory and...hang on, Clapham's diving. The Snitch has been sighted! The Gryffindor Seeker heads after her, he's gaining...he's level...he's – oh, no! McCarthy's Bludger gets him on the leg, is that a break? He's knocked off course and Clapham gets the Snitch. Hufflepuff win, 170-30, but a very close match, nonetheless. A good fight from Gryffindor, but Hufflepuff retain the Quidditch Cup!"

The Hufflepuff stand erupted into mad cheers and screams of delight. Up in the air, Eddie Abbott was so pleased to have won his final Quidditch cup that he kissed Rosie Honeyduke full on the mouth, to accompanying catcalls from the stands.

James flew over to Frank to help him land. Gideon and Graham flew to his side.

"Never mind, mate," Gideon said to Frank who was trying to apologise through teeth gritted in pain. "Not your fault."

"Well played," Graham said to James.

Above them, Meadowes seemed loath to come down from the air. Dorcas sat beside him on her broom. She rested her hand on his shoulder, and Meadowes didn't shake it off. Defoe was shaking hands with the Hufflepuff team.

Madam Pomfrey came forward and felt Frank's leg.

"Yes, that's a bad break. Such a violent game; I don't see why the Headmaster doesn't ban it."

She tapped Frank's leg with her wand.

"It'll be a little stiff for a while."

James, Graham, Gideon and even Frank were staring at her in disbelief. Ban Quidditch?

"She's barmy," James muttered once Madam Pomfrey had left them.

Gideon looked over his shoulder to where Dumbledore had changed his robes with a clap of his hands to a brilliant Hufflepuff yellow as he presented the victorious team (headed by a weeping Rosie Honeyduke) with the House Cup.

"Good job Dumbledore's sensible," he said, before he and Graham went to join their friends.

Sirius, Remus and Peter ran out of the crowd towards Frank and James, and, together, they made their way to the changing rooms, James helping a limping Frank. Another figure detached itself from a passing herd of Slytherins.

"Too bad, Potter," Snape said, smirking at James.

"Yes, it is, isn't it?" Sirius snarled. "Too bad you weren't playing, Snivellus. Gryffindor wouldn't even have needed to catch the Snitch to win."

"What would you know of Quidditch, Black?" asked Snape, a thin smile playing over his face. "You didn't even get on the team."

James began to retort, but Remus beat him to it.

"Shows how good Gryffindor are, if they've got two Beaters who are better than Sirius."

"Shame that Slytherin had to grub around for any old players," James said.

Snape whipped out his wand, levelling it at James. James was supporting Frank and so couldn't reach his wand.

Nevertheless, Snape found himself faced with three wands, as Sirius, Remus and even Peter pointed theirs at him.

"Frank! Are you all right, we – what are you doing?" Lily and Alice came running up and eyed the cluster of boys.

"Nothing," James said.

"Nothing that concerns you," Snape said, glaring at Lily. He looked as though he would have liked to say more, but perhaps the fact that he was outnumbered deterred him. He walked away, leaving James, Frank, Sirius and Remus looking angry, Peter looking triumphant, and Lily looking red.

Alice, meanwhile, was peering at Frank's leg.

"I wish you wouldn't let the Bludgers hit you, Frank," she said.

Frank's mouth twitched.


	9. Of Mice and Men

"James, is someone in your family an Animagus?" Remus asked. James looked up so sharply he thought he might have cricked his neck.

"Not unless there's something they're not telling me. Why?"

The four of them were lounging on the floor in the study of Ketterleigh Castle, a set of Exploding Snap cards between them. The July sun glinted off the damp glass and shone through the window, bathing the four of them in light.

"Well, it's just that you've got about fifty books about Animagi in here."

Damn. James, Sirius and Peter had been working in there when Remus arrived after the full moon. They'd just pushed the books to the side and forgotten about them.

Remus looked at them.

"What is it?"

"Nothing," Sirius said, his best innocent expression firmly in place. "Only that your card is about to explode round about…now!"

Sure enough, the card in Remus's hand exploded, causing Remus to drop it on the floor and rub his burnt fingers.

"You are far too good at this game," James said to Sirius. "I'm sure that's unhealthy."

Remus was still looking at them.

"No. Peter's looking shifty," he said. "What are you up to?"

Sirius and James looked accusingly at Peter, who was going red. Over Peter's head, they nodded to each other.

"We're trying to become Animagi," Sirius said.

Remus laughed. He stopped. He gaped at them. "You're serious?"

Sirius opened his mouth, but James jabbed him.

"Don't even think about starting that up again."

Sirius looked wounded. "Yes," he said, trying to sound dignified. " _We _are serious."

Remus raised his eyebrows. "You realise that there have only been, what, four Animagi this century?"

"Five," said Peter. Remus stared at him. For a few seconds, he seemed incapable of speech. "What on earth has possessed you to try?" he finally managed.

"You," said James.

Remus took a sharp breath. "You're mad. You know how dangerous…? And you'll never do it."

James got up. "We'll see. It's stopped raining. Who's for Quidditch?"

Sirius stood up and walked out of the room with James and Peter following behind.

"Why have I made you want to be Animagi?" Remus asked that evening.

James sighed. He'd thought that the matter had been dropped. Remus certainly seemed to have forgotten about it during the exciting Quidditch game; James and Peter versus Sirius and Remus which, as usual, degenerated into James versus Sirius with Remus refereeing and Peter cheering.

"Werewolves can't hurt animals," Sirius said in a low voice.

The room was very still.

"Werewolves can't hurt…" Remus was frowning.

"We wanted to be able to keep you company. All right?" Sirius said, his voice rising. James didn't know why Sirius was angry; Remus hadn't said anything…yet.

"You wanted to...? Merlin, Sirius! You and James do some stupid things, but this? How on earth are you ever going to be…and even if you did…you think I would _let _you? You could kill yourselves trying, did you know that? I've read the books for next year, and there're some _horrible _stories in there, about…"

James, Sirius and Peter stared at Remus as though he had grown an extra head. Quiet, soft-spoken Remus had never, ever shouted like that. Remus's chest was rising and falling rapidly. The last time James had seen anyone look so enraged was his mother, when he'd tied an exploding firecracker to the cat's tail when he was seven. He got up and pulled out a book from the stack that lined the study walls. It fell open at a much-read page, and he handed the book to Remus.

"Read that."

Remus read it, the other three watching closely.

"It's not exaggerating, is it?" Sirius said in a harsh voice.

Remus looked up, but James cut in. "There're a couple of other books we've found. Some have drawings of the actual transformation. They're in the Restricted Section of the library, but we've seen them. If that's what happens when a person becomes a werewolf, then it doesn't really bother us if becoming Animagi is 'a bit' dangerous. Anyway," he added, with a quick grin at Sirius, "it's only dangerous for stupid people. We're fine."

Remus snorted, a trace of a smile appearing on his face. His eyes moved back to the book, and the smile disappeared.

"Is-is that really what happens?" Peter asked him.

Remus shut the book with a snap. "No," he said. "Not really."

Peter looked puzzled, but James felt a chill creep down his spine. The descriptions in the book were bad enough, but to actually go through it…

He was very glad that his mother chose that moment to call them for supper.

July seeped slowly into August. Once Sirius, Remus and Peter had gone home, James thought that the hot summer days were dragging unbearably. Home was boring without his friends. James could only wonder at what he used to do with himself all the time before he started school. In the room which had been his playroom, he surveyed the piles and stacks of games, neatly packed into cupboards by one of the house-elves. He'd spent hours playing with some of these. He grinned as his eye fell on a battered old box, and he pulled it from the shelf, along with everything else that had been on top of it.

On the box's tatty cover was a picture of a Quidditch pitch. Fourteen cartoon figures beamed at him, waving as they swooped past on their brooms. As he stared, the Snitch flew up at him, making him blink, before it whizzed back to lurk on the corner of the cardboard cover. James had spent hours playing with this model Quidditch set. He opened it and fingered the familiar players. It was funny how ancient the broomsticks looked now. He could remember being given it by his grandfather when he was about six years old. The players had seemed so perfect then. He smiled down at the Keeper, whose head had been chewed off as a result of an encounter with his Uncle St John's krup.

All these games felt incredibly babyish to him, now that he was a proper Quidditch player. James set up the model pitch and practiced Chaser formations for a while, but he soon lost interest. Flying was better when you were actually doing it yourself, and he had no one to fly with, now that Sirius was gone. He sifted through the pile of toys which had fallen from the shelf. He pocketed the half-full pot of itching powder that he found beneath the child-sized Falmouth Falcons hat. It could be useful at some point. His hand brushed a small object. It was a large Snitch. He remembered it from his 'My First Quidditch Set'. The Snitch twitched slightly in the palm of his hand; most of the flying charm had worn off over the years. James leant against the wall and began to pass the small ball from hand to hand.

It wasn't _fair_ . Nobody had time for him anymore. Well, no one but the house-elves, although he did try to create more work for them by asking for food at odd times of the day. His mum was always ready to chat, but then someone would floo, and she'd have to rush off, or sometimes he'd be talking, and then this blank look would come over her face, and James could tell that she wasn't really listening. Nor was his mum much use at Quidditch. She wasn't too bad at Chasing, but there wasn't much point practicing Chasing with just two of you and no Keeper or Beaters. She was an awful Keeper, and she flatly refused to aim Bludgers at him. His dad was a good Beater, although James thought that the Bludgers were aimed behind him rather than at him. But his dad was busy this holiday. He'd been spending more and more time at work recently, all because of this man, this Voldemort. James threw the Snitch a bit harder. It wasn't as if Voldemort were a new problem. James had first heard of him a few years ago, on the WWN. He'd been saying that Muggle-borns shouldn't be allowed. That wizards shouldn't mix with Muggles. At the time, James hadn't paid much attention. Last summer, his parents hadn't seemed very happy, but he'd thought that was because Granny had died. Over Easter, Sirius had been around, and so James hadn't minded his dad's longer hours or his mum getting distracted. But now, James was on his own, and it was all because of that Voldiebloke. James had laughed at the name, but the pained expression on his father's face had made him stop.

"But it's a load of stinksap," he had scoffed. "Everyone knows that being Muggle-born doesn't make you a bad wizard."

"I agree," his father had said. "What this Lord Voldemort says does seem to be a, well, you put it very succinctly, James. Yet he's become very popular." Mr Potter had raked his hand through his hair. "He's become very popular, and that means he's powerful."

As far as James could work out, his dad was worried, because there was going to be a new Minister for Magic, and this Voldemort might get lots of votes. And they didn't want Voldemort to become Minister for Magic, because he wouldn't let the Muggle-borns be wizards. James was proud of his dad for trying to stop Voldemort. Remus's mum was a Muggle-born, and she was really nice. He didn't want anyone to get rid of her or any of the other Muggle-borns. But he wished his dad were around to play Quidditch.

At long last, September the first arrived, and James found himself standing with his parents on Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, looking round for Sirius and the others. He quickly spotted Peter, but as Peter's mother was busy sobbing over him as usual, James decided to steer clear.

Besides him, James's father nodded at the McKinnons. Marlene looked very bored as she eyed James. James stuck his tongue out at her; Marlene rolled her eyes and turned away.

"Edmund!" Mr Potter called out a greeting, and James followed his father's eyes to the barrier, where the Lupins had just appeared.

"Jolyon, how are you?" Mr Lupin shook Mr Potter's hand. James grinned at Remus.

"Busy," Mr Potter answered. Mr Lupin nodded slowly.

"Yes," he said. "I imagine you would be."

James could see that his father looked worried again. Mr Lupin did, too.

"It was so kind of you to let Remus come and stay," Mrs Lupin said, smiling brightly at James's mother.

"Honestly, he was an absolute pleasure to have about," Mrs Potter said in an determinedly cheerful voice. "I only hope that his manners start to rub off on James."

James felt put out. "I have manners," he said. "I don't lick my knife like Peter does, anyway."

"Where is Peter?" asked Remus, looking about. "Oh," he said, spotting the weeping Mrs Pettigrew. He grimaced. "Should we rescue him?"

"Nah," James said. "I think we should let them be."

Remus looked rather relieved.

As their parents talked, James and Remus watched students and their parents filter by onto the platform. A burly, hook-nosed man and a dark, meek little woman walked by with Severus Snape, who swapped a menacing glare with James. A minute later, Gideon Prewett bounced up to talk to James..

"You all right?" Gideon asked.

"Yeah, you?"

"I'm fine," Gideon said, grinning. "They made me Captain this year, so be prepared for some serious Quidditch. That cup has our name on it."

"What are you going to do? Drop yourself from the team?"

Gideon swatted James. "Watch it, Potter, or you'll be out on your arse."

Out of the corner of his eye, James could see his father raising his eyebrows at Gideon's words. The next moment, his father's face took on a shadowed expression. A tall woman stalked past, eyeing the Potters and Lupins disdainfully. She was accompanied by a pale-haired, faded-looking man. A young boy was walking between them, and dragging his feet at the back of the group was Sirius. Sirius glanced at James and Remus.

"Sirius!" snapped the woman. Sirius turned to James and Remus and winked at them before following his family to the centre of the platform, close to where Narcissa Black stood with her parents.

James and Remus hovered near the Black family group. James pulled faces at Sirius, who tried to keep a straight face, while his mother briefed him for the coming year.

"You will not cast your shame upon Regulus," Mrs Black said. "You will not encourage him to _deviate._ "

James, standing behind Mrs Black, could not see her expression, yet her voice was pure venom. As he mouthed the words 'You will not encourage him to deviate,' with over the top expressions, he looked at Regulus, who stood next to Sirius. The two brothers were very similar. Both had dark hair and grey eyes, but Regulus's chin was weaker, and, while Sirius's face was fixed in a glare as he looked as his mother, Regulus's eyes flickered about the platform. He always looked afraid, James noticed. He took in James's antics with a timid sneer, and his eyes rested on his mother with a look of fearful devotion.

On the train, both Sirius and Peter were pleased to have extricated themselves from their mothers. The four of them settled in a compartment. Within seconds, the door opened, and in walked Regulus walked.

"Sirius?"

Sirius sighed. "Can't you go and find some first years to bother?"

Regulus bit his lip. "I don't know anyone."

"Well, you won't unless you go and talk to them, Reg."

Regulus looked hopeful. "Can I stay here with you? Please, Sirius?"

Sirius glanced at James, Remus and Peter. Remus's face was neutral, and Peter was eyeing Regulus with dislike. James's eyes flicked to Regulus and back to Sirius. Sirius's brother seemed so feeble compared to Sirius, who would never stay where he wasn't wanted.

"Go away, Regulus," Sirius snapped. "Mother said you're not allowed to talk to me."

With a last, pleading look at his brother, Regulus slipped out of the compartment.

"So, Sirius, are you going to try out for Dorcas's place this term?" James asked. Sirius didn't answer. "Sirius?"

Sirius stopped looking at the door and turned to James. "Sorry, what? Quidditch? Yeah, 'course. What can I say? Gryffindor needs me."

The try-outs took place in the second week of term, and James attended them with a swagger, feeling very proud at having been a part of last year's team. Among the mass of hopefuls, Gideon had to select a new Keeper and Beater, and James, Frank, Adam Defoe and Graham Bell were all there to give their opinions.

"So, what do you reckon?" Graham asked Gideon as he put the balls away. Gideon locked the box and grinned at James.

"Well, Sirius is in," Gideon said.

"He was the only decent Beater out there," Defoe added.

"Who do you think for Keeper?" Frank asked.

Gideon looked rather troubled.

"Fabian was pretty good," James said.

Gideon pulled a face. "I know; he's not bad. But then, he's my brother, and he's only a second year, and he can be an annoying little twerp..."

"Yeah, but was he the best?" Graham asked. "Because if he was the best flier then it doesn't matter that he's your brother."

"I did like the look of Baites," Gideon said, frowning.

"He was steady," said James. "But that save Fabian did when Graham came in on the left was great."

"Baites saved more goals overall, though," Gideon said, doggedly. He let out a breath slowly between his teeth. "Baites was okay, but nothing compared to Meadowes. Fabian's a decentish player at the moment, and I think he'll get better. He loves Quidditch, and he was always watching us when he was little... I just don't want to give him special treatment because he's my brother,"

"What if he was just anybody. What then?"

Gideon nodded at Frank. "Well, Baites is a seventh-year, so he's going to be busy. Plus, it'd be better for the team if we don't have to change the line-up every year. But, then again. it's Baites's last year; Fabian would probably get in next year…"

"It'll be better for the team not to change. You just said," Defoe said.

Gideon sat down heavily on the ball chest. "I'm going to regret this," he said.

Gideon was to reiterate that sentiment several times over the two months preceding the first Quidditch match of the year.

"Fabian," he yelled, as his brother flew out and superbly intercepted the Quaffle from Graham, before dropping it and allowing James to intercept and throw the Quaffle through his unmarked hoops. "What in the name of Merlin _was_ that, you little idiot?"

Fabian Prewett, a stocky boy who shared his brother's sandy hair and indomitable nature, stuck out his tongue. "You can't pick on me, Gideon," he said, "or I'll tell Mum."

Gideon swelled. "I'm not picking on you, you imbecile, but if you can't fly better than a warthog with vertigo then I'm quite entitled to…"

"I'll tell Molly," Fabian said with a triumphant grin.

Gideon stopped mid-rant. "Oh, shut up, you little toad," he snapped. "Right, let's start again. What are you laughing at?" He flew back to the middle of the pitch, Quaffle under his arm, glowering at his sniggering team-mates.

"So," Sirius said as the team took their brooms to the shed. "Who's Molly, then, Gideon?" He nudged him and winked.

Fabian burst out laughing. Gideon looked scandalised.

"She's my _sister, _Sirius."

"Molly Prewett?" James asked. The name was tugging at his memory.

"Well, she's Molly Weasley now."

"Yeah, but was she the Molly Prewett who won the Quidditch cup?"

Gideon and Fabian looked rather proud.

"That's right; Molly was a good Keeper, unlike some," Gideon said, glancing at Fabian.

"She was amazing," Fabian said, ignoring his brother. "And of course she passed it all on to me. Brilliance at Quidditch runs in the family."

Gideon thumped him. "Oh, shut up, you arrogant little…"

"What?" Fabian whacked his brother back. "I'm brilliant, Molly could have played for England, and, well, there must be some reason they made you captain."

"I told you he was cocky," Gideon said to the others.

James wasn't listening, however. "She could have played for England? Why doesn't she?"

There was a pause.

"She got married instead," Gideon said. He shrugged his shoulders and looked away. Fabian's expression was one of disgust; the resemblance between the brothers amplified.

"She got married?" Sirius said, his eyes wide.

James was standing by, open-mouthed. He couldn't believe it. He dreamed of playing Quidditch for England, and this Molly had got married instead. It was ridiculous.

"I know," Fabian muttered. "I told her not to, but she wouldn't listen."

"She's married, she's happy, she's just had a baby," Gideon said briskly, ushering them out of the shed and locking it with his wand.

"Oh, and I suppose you think she did the right thing," Graham Bell said, raising his eyebrows at the others.

"Well, no, Quidditch is Quidditch, but Molly's a girl. They just don't understand these things."

And with that, the Gryffindor Quidditch team made their way back to the castle, shaking their heads over the strangeness of women.

As term progressed, James became more aware of tensions in the castle. The elections were approaching, and James could just _see _his mother's pursed lips as he read her letters in which she did not write about his father's preoccupation at work. While most of the students knew little about the elections, some of them were loudly expressing their opinion that Muggle-borns shouldn't be allowed, that Lord Voldemort had the right idea, and that those who were against him were working towards the downfall of the wizarding world.

When James had finished hexing Snape, he turned to Sirius, Remus and Peter.

"Did you hear that? The stupid git. How can anyone agree with that Voldemort?"

"Mum says that he'd be good for the economy, but that he's too extreme," Peter said, earning himself a glare from James.

"Dad said that more people agree with him than you'd think," Remus said quietly. "Lots of pure-blood families might think they'd be better off without Muggle-borns."

"How can you say that?" James spluttered. "What about your Mum?"

"I don't think that," Remus said quickly. "Of course, I don't. It's just that…"

"Many people do," Sirius finished. "Like my parents." He frowned. "I bet everyone in Slytherin would vote for him."

"He's not going to become Minister for Magic," James stated. "It's impossible."

But then why was his Dad so worried?

James didn't dwell on it, though. He had lots more to think about. Quidditch was one. That October was wet and windy; James, Sirius and the rest of the team found themselves buffeted about the Quidditch pitch four times a week, their hands sliding from the slippery handles of their brooms. Schoolwork was another. James and Sirius had breezed through their last exams, as had Remus, who always worked extra hard to catch up. While it was only Peter who was really challenged by the work, James found himself spending more time doing homework, owing to his extra subjects: Care of Magical Creatures and Arithmancy.

Care of Magical Creatures was taught by Professor Kettleburn, who became Sirius's idol in a matter of days. Kettleburn's face and hands, owing to prolonged exposure to the elements and various magical creatures, were brown and leathery-looking. The only exception to this was his shiny bald head, of which he seemed rather proud. As the weather got colder, he took to wearing a thick, woolly hat, which he would take off and twirl about on his fingers, before replacing it on his head. His fingers were gnarled and knotted and, in several cases, missing. His most eye-catching physical feature was his left leg, in that he didn't have it. This was one of the main reasons for Sirius's interest in him. Instead, Professor Kettleburn had a wooden leg, which would sink into the mud on wet days, effectively pinning him to the spot, until some of his students pulled him out. His lessons were always fun.

"By the end of this term you should be well acquainted with Flobberworms," Kettleburn had said at the beginning of the first lesson. He happily surveyed his disappointed class. "Because you'll be feeding them to some very interesting creatures."

Hagrid often happened to be nearby when Kettleburn had a particularly 'interesting' specimen for them to study _"in case Kettleburn needs any help with'em." _On a Wednesday, they had Care of Magical Creatures before break, and James, Sirius, Remus and Peter took to having a cup (or rather a bucket) of tea with Hagrid before their next lesson. James liked Hagrid. He knew an awful lot about interesting things like dragon breeding and flesh-eating slugs.

James, Sirius and Peter also continued their Animagi studies, especially during the full moon, when Remus was away. The subject had reached a terse agreement in that they didn't speak of it. Remus didn't come with them when they went to their secret passageway; the others had continued to hide their extra-curricula studies when they were with Remus.

"There's no point," Peter complained one evening, when, after having completed the rest of his homework, he was forced by the other two to spend hours upon end trying to 'see' his animal. "Why do we bother? Remus doesn't want us to become Animagi."

But James had never given anything up in his life, and if the danger and illegality of becoming an Animagus hadn't dissuaded him, then he wasn't going to let Remus stand in his way. He and Sirius were beginning to work on Transfiguring various objects into the animals they would become. By midnight, James had managed to turn all his chess pieces into little black and white stags. He'd even managed to get different sized antlers, according to how important the piece was. Sirius, meanwhile, was working on changing every serpent that appeared on any of his possessions into a dog.

"Take that," he grunted, as the snake-shaped quill holder writhed and melted into a crude metal blob, and then stretched and rounded into something relatively canine, which wagged its tail weakly at the boys.

"And that," he snarled, and the serpent clasp of his money bag lost its shape. James, bored of chess pieces, examined the newly-fashioned clasp with interest.

"That's not a dog," he said, holding up the misshapen piece of silver.

"It ruddy well is," Sirius said, snatching it back and looking at it closely. "Well, it sort of is, anyway."

"Doesn't look like a dog, if you ask me," Peter said, peering over Sirius's shoulder.

"I didn't," Sirius said crossly, stuffing the offending article into his pocket. "Aren't you meant to be trying to find your animal?"

Peter reddened. "I think I can see it."

"Well?" Sirius said.

"It's just not very clear."

"So you can't see it."

"Are you focussing on the spells?"

Peter looked balefully at James. "Of course I am. It's just that it won't get any clearer."

"What does it look like?" Sirius asked.

Peter began to pick at the end of his robes, while his cheeks turned even pinker.

"I think…I think it's a …I think it's some sort of mouse."

"A mouse? A mouse!" Sirius began to laugh, until his torso shook with chuckles and tears leaked from his eyes. "A mouse - oh, Peter, that's priceless."

James had to admit that the idea of Peter as a mouse was rather funny, although not as hilarious as Sirius seemed to find it. He began to laugh at Sirius, who was slumped on the floor, spluttering "a mouse" at intervals. Then he saw Peter, who was also watching Sirius. Peter wasn't laughing, though; his cheeks were bright red now, as were his ears, and he was biting his lip. He found himself thinking of what Remus usually did in that sort of situation.

"Actually, it would be really good if you could turn into something like that," he said to Peter. "You'd be able to get under the Whomping Willow, then, and we wouldn't have to look for a stick each time."

It was the best advantage of becoming a mouse he could come up with of on the spur of the moment. Peter nodded, still watching the giggling Sirius.

"Actually, it would be useful to be that small," James said. "You could spy on Snape for us and get into the Slytherin Common Room without being noticed." They had the Invisibility Cloak for that, of course, but Peter seemed to have forgotten about that as he looked a bit happier and smiled at James.

"I think Sirius has had enough for tonight," James said to Peter, prodding Sirius with his shoe.

Sirius was breathing heavily now and kept shaking his head and snorting.

"Sirius, are you going to shut up? Otherwise, you'll get us caught."

Sirius calmed down somewhat, and the three of them covered themselves with the cloak and crept down the shadowy corridors and past the moonlit windows until they reached Gryffindor tower. There, James whispered the password to the Fat Lady, who swung open without properly waking up, and they snuck through the deserted common room and up into their dormitory. As they passed the dead fire, James thought he saw a glint of red as a shaft of moonlight fell on one of the armchairs, but the room was gloomy, and his mind was focused upon his bed, and he ignored it.


End file.
